Pressing into Him: Handkerchief Lessons

I'm fasting and praying today for my nephew, who is currently undergoing open heart surgery.  The emptiness in my stomach is causing me to press into God in prayer.  Prayer for Toby and his parents.  Prayer for friends and family who are facing challenges in their lives. 

Today's lesson came from pressing handkerchiefs as I was waiting for news.  Yes, handkerchiefs.  But not for us.  One of the first times I really felt the Holy Spirit prompt me to action was last April at the Women of Joy conference in Louisville, KY.  It had been a good weekend, a growing weekend.  We were in the last session listening to Liz Curtis Higgs, who was giving huge doses of truth and love in between the laughs.  I noticed that the woman sitting in front of me was crying, and had asked her friend for a tissue.  As I watched their quick interaction, I was struck by the thought that I should give her the handkerchief tucked in my purse.  I tried to dismiss the thought, mentally listing out reasons that I shouldn't:  it was wrinkled, she'd think I was crazy, and look, she stopped crying.  Again the nudge came to give her my handkerchief.  This time I bargained:  How about I give it to one of the friends I'd come with instead?  They won't think I'm so crazy, and it will still be a nice gesture.  Again, the nudge.  With an inner sigh, I decided that if she started to cry again, I would hand it to her.  And yes, she began to cry again.  If we've met, you know that I'm about as introverted as one can get.  Going up and tapping a stranger on the shoulder to hand her a wrinkled handkerchief is WAY outside my comfort zone.  But He pushed me past that, and yes, I tapped her on the shoulder, saying "This is wrinkled, but it's clean.  Please take this as a reminder of how much God loves you."  She accepted it with a thanks, and I sat back.  A bit later the conference was closing in song, and we ended up in a tearful embrace as she asked if I'd like her to mail the handkerchief back after she had a chance to wash it. "No, please keep it as a reminder of His love."

That simple encounter really changed the way I viewed those thoughts to do something for another, and made me see that sometimes they really may be nudgings of the Holy Spirit to do God's work.  It also made me think about the nature of grief in our throwaway society.  We soak through paper tissues and toss them into the trash without further thought, as if by doing so we can discard the hard feelings and fling them away.  If grief lingers longer than the attention given to even the biggest news stories, which are so quickly pushed aside by others, we at times feel there is something wrong with us.  Our tears are something to quickly wipe away and discard.

But how different God's word views our tears.  In Psalm 56:8 , we read, "You number my wanderings; Put my tears into Your bottle;  Are they not in Your book?" God doesn't discard our tears, He keeps record of them.  He captures them.  Before disposable tissues, a handkerchief served much the same purpose.  While washed in between sessions of grief, that same scrap of cloth may have caught the tears of a life.  Lonely tears while waiting for a husband, tears of joy on a wedding day.  Emotionally happy tears of pregnancy, and the bitter tears of losing a child.  Empathetic tears shed for a friend, and grieving tears when a parent died.  Rejoicing tears when a prodigal returned home, and bittersweet tears as a spouse went to join the Lord in heaven.

So I press handkerchiefs.  And as the hot iron presses out the wrinkles, I see my life.  God pressing the sin wrinkles out.  Little by little.  Steam here, a fold there, uncurling my edges.

As I press, I pray.  I press into Him.