Finger Pointing

It was an interesting day.
Funeral visitation in the early afternoon followed by a baby shower.
The funeral was for a precious woman who just celebrated her 100th birthday.
The baby shower was for the granddaughter of a friend.

The circle of life in one afternoon.
God was teaching me all day long.

The church, where the funeral service was held, was a small country church.
Dated 1889, it was everything you can imagine when you think of an old country church.
Cemetery across the street, small parking lot, since horse and carriages were the norm.

As the cars drove in, we were instructed to park on the grass.
I waited since the car next to me had its door opened.
Reverse in there…but be careful of his door, the funeral director said.
He made sure it was loud enough for the other driver to hear.

The other person still stood there, taking his time, getting his Bible, putting on his jacket.
I was getting annoyed as I saw more cars behind me.
My heart was frustrated and in one of those finger pointing kind of moods.
I knew this person from my church and yet he never acknowledged me.

I reversed into the space, adjusting the distance once his door was closed.
I got out of my car and he walked on ahead.
No, Hello!
No, How are you?
My heart began finger pointing again.

After visiting with the family, I left the church and headed to the baby shower.
I sent my friend a text to make sure the location had not changed.
I received a desperate request for prayer.
The car wouldn’t start and she was bringing the food.

I was near her daughter’s house and offered to pick her up.
You’ll know the house. We’re the one that has the car out front with the hood up!
There it was…there she was.
I had not seen her in years since she moved away.

We loaded my car with all the food and the presents.
Her other little granddaughter was there and I tried to talk to her.
What’s your name?
She looked at me, and then her grandmother, wondering if I was safe.

It’s OK. Miss Gina is a friend of mine.
The little girl smiled but never told me her name.

I can guess your name…Is it Beautiful?
NO! she said giggling.
Is it Smiley?
NO! laughing harder…It’s Taylor!

Taylor and I became instant friends.
She liked how tall I was.
She liked my hair.
She wanted to know how I knew her “Mom-Mom”.

The three of us drove to the shower together.
As we talked in the car, her grandmother told me that Taylor loved to pray.
I was sure it was said more to encourage Taylor than anything else.
More finger pointing in my heart!

We arrived at the shower.
I met the extended family and talked to Taylor some more.
She was seven years old and going into second grade.
I told her that I had a daughter who taught second grade.
That’s really cool! she said…and she meant it.

I needed to leave early and said my goodbyes.
I said goodbye to my new friend and then went to hug her grandmother.
Taylor got out of her chair and came over to me.
She locked her arm in mine, gently stroked my arm, and gave me the sweetest hug.

Do you need prayer? Taylor asked me.
Yes, I do, I said as I crouched my tall frame down to her size.
She grabbed both of my hands in hers.
I looked at her and she closed her eyes and began.

Heaven shook as this precious child prayed.
Her innocence…her sincerity…her fervency…is something I will never forget.

Jesus, protect my friend, Miss Gina. Keep her safe when she leaves.
Thank you that I met her today. Thank you that she loves my Mom-Mom.
Lord Jesus, when we are reunited someday in heaven, it will be good.

There was not a hint of pretense in her prayer.
This was a Spirit filled prayer…from the lips of a child.
A prayer that humbled and encouraged my finger-pointing heart.

Taylor had confidence in her salvation and mine.
She had assurance because of the promises of God.
We will see each other again.
We will be linking arms in heaven…and it will be good.

From the lips of children and infants You have ordained praise. (Psalm 8:2)

I ran into the person that had ignored me the day before.
He held the door for me and my daughter as we came out of church.
It was so good to see you at the funeral yesterday.

You saw me? You never said Hi, I said with an edge to my voice.

I was waiting to see if you were walking in, but you were busy pulling into the parking spot. Good parking job, by the way.

There it was.
I AM THE CULPRIT!
The fingers should be pointing at me!

You didn’t talk to Me!
She probably doesn’t really pray as well as her grandmother said!

The world revolves around ME!

Then the voice of a child…
Lord Jesus, when we are reunited someday in heaven, it will be good.
Truer words were never spoken.

My fingers are not pointing.
They are turned…palms up…in worship.
For lessons learned and new perspectives seen.

I am the culprit!
Truer words were never spoken.