Hedge

photo by bgrace

"Do you believe that God has a hedge of protection around you?"

It was the question my Dad asked the congregation Wednesday night. It was Thursday morning and we were talking in the sitting room off the kitchen. Just me and my Dad, sharing our thoughts about Scripture. I like doing that with my Dad. If I listen carefully enough to the Spirit while we talk, I almost always learn something. He had preached on Job the night before and was talking about how God gave Satan permission to take everything away from him--every thing but one. There was a hedge of protection about his life. And my Dad says thoughtfully, "I think God has a hedge of protection around my life. Not necessarily around my possessions--my house, my car--those could be taken away. But around my life."
I was fairly quiet. Dad went on to talk about how God allowed Job's reputation to be taken from him, but I was still processing his last statement. I tend to shy away from most "always and never" theology. I believe that sometimes God does allow the lives of His Saints to be taken. And sometimes God does protect our possessions.
But not always. I found that out the hard way a couple weeks ago. My computer got a virus. I lost all of the writings and photos I had saved to my hard drive. It was a tough blow and the fact that I didn't back them up was just plain careless of me. I was tempted to be really grieved by it all, but as I sat with the Lord in the quiet I felt like He reassured me that what was important was the message in me, not what I had put into neatly typed out passages. Its source is in Him. Perhaps what was written was somehow shallower than what is to come. The pictures though--especially of my kids--nothing will be able to replace them. I do have many of them backed up and I have most of the scratches and scribbles my writings came from in my journals. Perhaps they will come together even more beautifully the second time around. And there are always more photos to be taken. Maybe they were a sort of rough draft, maybe what comes now will be richer and more mature. I'm very thankful I have my posts. Perhaps there was a hedge around what was important after all.
Friday morning Jean and I took Em to the Central Market for a special outing. We were going to take the train in, but since I wasn't sure about my stomach my Dad drove us into the city. We had fun looking at fish, fruit, cheese, roosters--all stuff we couldn't take with us. Then we enjoyed some cafe com leite and brigadeiros at a cafe while we waited for Daren to pick us up. Mom, Dad, and the girls met up with us for lunch and Mom and I discussed our options for the rest of the day.
It was all so normal. Insignificant almost. Mom offered to take Em home on the train. I needed to burn photo CDs for my Dad at Daren's, so that meant it would be helpful for Sarah to go with Mom. But Em and Sarah together would be a little much for Mom on the train so it was decided Jean would go with them. That being settled, the question was, what about Grace? If she went with them there would be too many people to fit in the taxi to the train station. So Grace could either go back with my Dad or she could tag along with me. Daren would take us back to my parents later that afternoon for Grace's Birthday party.
I've been thinking about why I made the choice I did, and honestly, I think I just wanted Grace to be with me. She's so easy when it's just her (and no sisters to fight with.) I enjoy her company. But I wonder if she had been whiney or difficult that day, maybe I would have encouraged her to go with my Dad so I could have a break.
But that's not what happened.
About two hours later, I was watching a Djavan DVD in Daren's living room when the phone rang. I wasn't really paying much attention. He walked in the room and said, "Becky, Dad's been in a really bad accident. He's ok, but the guy in the other car is on the way to the hospital." Shock has a way of numbing your emotions when it settles in. The details were all a bit fuzzy but I held on to the "Dad's ok" part. Over the next few phone calls the event came more into focus. Dad was pulling up to the train station to pick up Mom, Jean, and the girls and didn't realize that he didn't have the right of way. He was trying to see the girls in the crowd and never saw the stop sign. A car slammed into the passenger side of the car. He was hit hard and shaken up quite a bit, but there were no visible injuries. The passenger in the other car hit his head hard on the roof and had to be taken to the hospital.
Daren drove Vivi, Grace, and I back to my parents’ house. He put some music on and Grace laid her head on my shoulder. I held her close as she chatted quietly about her 10th Birthday party. So many details hovered around the edge of my mind. I would have to get on a plane in less than 12 hours. I had a lot of packing left. We now had one less car to get to the airport. Two small ones weren't going to cut it. Dad had broken a law and injured someone--here they treat that a bit differently. People also seem to be more likely to sue Americans. I wondered what that would mean for him. My Mom was sure to be maxed out with anxiety. I knew everyone would want to pull it together to celebrate Grace's Birthday--all the decorations were already up and the girls would be disappointed if we didn't. I wasn't ok with the fact that my Dad hadn't gone to the hospital to get checked out.But those facts weren't nearly as front and center in my heart as the "could have beens."
I could have lost my Dad.
Do you have any idea how much I love my Dad? I'm not up for that right now. "Lord you know how much I can handle," I prayed. (I realize this sounds a bit self-centered, but I am writing about what I was feeling as opposed to what perhaps I should have been feeling.) And then the thought I'd been avoiding the last few hours began to seep its way out through my tear ducts.
Grace could have been in the car.
She tries to weasel her way into the front seat every time we drive somewhere now. Grandpa isn't exactly the best at saying no to his granddaughters either. I could have so easily chosen for her to go with him. I could have felt like I needed a break from my kids.
But that's not what happened.
When I walked in the gate my Dad was swaying gently in the hammock on the front patio. I swear hammocks have healing powers. I watched as everyone gave him gentle kisses. He was smiling. He's almost always smiling. I waited until everyone else had walked into the house and toyed with the idea of asking him if he would let me lay hands on him and pray a prayer for healing. I settled for praying silently and laying my hand on his arm.
I looked at him and said, "So what do you think, Dad? Does God have a hedge of protection around you?" He laughed quietly, "Yes, He does."
"But not your car," I said with a grin.
"I've been thinking about the whole idea today," he started to explain. He had been reading the book of Daniel that morning and when he was reading about Nebuchadnezzar and his dream, he noticed that the tree, though cut down, was protected by bronze and iron. Like there was a fence around it. "Do you know why?" he asked.
"Because even though he sinned through pride and God would allow him to suffer for seven years, God would protect his kingdom and his authority. God would restore to him all that was lost." I replied.
"Yes," my Dad said.
It's always nice when we agree.
But then he started on some election rabbit trail. I waved my hand at him and headed inside figuring if he could preach for 10 minutes he was just fine.
Yes, God put a hedge around Nebuchadnezzar.
God put a hedge around Job.
Around Grace.
Around Daniel.
And around me.

Sometime I should write more about how God protects Himself in us. He doesn't allow His words and His work to be stolen away. He puts a hedge about it. Maybe that's part of the whole sanctuary idea. I'll have to chew on that some more.
Blessings to you in the meanwhile.
B