I arrived at the writer’s conference early on Friday. I stood in awe at the beauty and vastness of the redwoods. The Creator’s design drew me to pray, “Thank You God for bringing me here. I come to you with open hands and open heart in submission to You. Take me and teach me the lessons You have for me. Amen.”
Having come alone, I believed that God would bring the right people my way. I just didn’t know when. I thought, Maybe at dinner?
When the doors opened announcing the evening meal, I headed towards the cafeteria. Once inside, I sprinted towards a chosen table. All of a sudden my toe caught the side of a wheeled luggage cart; I couldn’t brace myself for the impending fall. My left knee crashed through the paper-thin carpet and seemed to meld with the concrete below.
I heard voices but couldn’t respond to flying questions, “Are you okay? Can we help?”
I wondered, Is this how I’m supposed to meet people?
After a few moments, I finally stood with assistance. I hoped that food would heal all things: Hunger and Pain. However, when I started to walk, the knee screamed ‘OUCH!’
All day Saturday I grunted and limped on the tips of my toes. The knee grew in size and warmth. Titles of afternoon classes flashed like neon lights beckoning me to attend, but the mental and physical distress provoked me to ask, “Lord should I go home?”
At super, Cheryl shared that she used to be an Emergency Room nurse. She suggested that I go to the ER for x-rays to make sure that it wasn’t fractured; I agreed. Another woman offered to drive.
As I waited for x-rays, my mind recalled the story of the Good Samaritan. Two people passed by the man lying on the ground, but finally a Samaritan came and showed compassion for the injured man. He furthered his love my administering medical attention. Oh Jesus, I thought, this is so amazing. The people who came near to me in my time of need showed their love by reaching out in compassion and helped me get medical attention. Thank You for giving me a new understanding of the story.
Four hundred and fifty people attended the conference, but not all could or would be there when I fell. God brought the perfect ones to be my friends.
X-rays revealed torn ligaments and bruising. I now owned a leg brace, crutches, and a wheel-chair. But above all, I learned how to be a recipient of love and how to trust my God. It was worth it just to be in the ER, even at midnight.
The next day I attended classes, met other writers, and talked with two editors about previously submitted manuscripts. God met all of my needs. What an amazing God!
Kim Kress lives in Ferndale, Washington where she write under the name of Priscilla Tate Gilmore because it means cheerful follower. Jesus Christ is the author and finisher of my faith, my work. I take no credit. I have been published in women and teen magazines and just finished my first novel, yet to be published.