“Hello there, friend,” said the grey haired full-bearded man as he gave me a hearty hug, patting me on the back as he did so.
“Did your travel go well?” chimed in his eighty something years old wife, as she reached up around my neck and pulled me close.
“Yes, yes. The colors of the leaves as I traveled along the Scenic Highway were a highlight of my trip. I don’t know if I've ever seen such brilliant and distinct color in the autumn leaves.”
Immediately the aromas of fall cooking drew my visual attention to the table in the next room.
“Let’s have a bite to eat then we’ll show you your room and you can get settled in,” said Mrs. Wit.
As the three of us sat, Mr. Wit reached out with his hand open and uplifted towards mine. I saw his wife grab his other hand and realized he intended to hold my hand. Reluctantly, I took it. They both bowed their heads and he began to pray.
My mind was reeling. how does he speak to him like he’s a caring father. Where was God when my wife was dying of cancer? Where was he as I cared for her night and day, praying to him for intervention for five long year, only to have her die and leave me with three small children?”
TEN DAYS LATER
The tears were gathering in my eyes. I was trying me best to contain myself but to no avail. I hate goodbyes.
Mrs. Wit looked directly in my eyes as she cupped each of her hands on the cheeks of my face. “He will keep in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Go with our love and prayers.
That did it. The tears ran relentlessly. I felt relief.
Mr. Wit putting his right arm across my back drew me to his side. “You’ll be okay. Don’t ever hesitate to call, or come back, our home is always open to you.”
A quick glance around the place set the scene in my mind forever. A rural north Minnesota lake shore cabin showing its age stood nearby. A grazing field where I had seen deer every evening gathered around the salt block. The multitude of bird feeders at the back of the cabin now hung quietly without attendance of their feathery clientele. They were each full of food or syrup having been stocked full this morning by Mr. Wit. An old house boat restored to be, “Grandpa’s Pad.” It was a place I visited frequently during my stay so I could read my bible and pray in solitude. Beyond the boat, the massive Minnesota Lake was shadowy with steam rising from it as the morning arrived and the sun shined upon it. The RV atop the hill, it had been my home for my stay. Many a night and early morning hour was spent in there crying out to God for his peace, comfort, rest and hope.
Turning my eyes to these dear ‘ole people standing before me, I knew I would be ever grateful for their welcome invite to come and rest in their home as I began my journey to hope after a season of heartache and trial.
God’s word so aptly says, “Be still and know that I am God.” The peaceful setting of the North Woods home site at the end of the road along with the patient presence of Mr. and Mrs. Wit, time to study God’s word and talk to my Heavenly Father had given me hope at my wit’s end.
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