He Knows my Name December 11, 2009
article by Paula Guest/graphic by Tammy Circeo
He knows my name. How many times have I read that, or sung that?? But did I believe it?? Did I assume it was meant for someone else? Or did I just assume it was symbolic? Or allegorical? Or a metaphorical? Or an idiom? Or any other figure of speech – except literal!
The following is the story that forever proved to me that not only does God know MY name, but He also orders my days.
I retired from teaching in June ’05. Mid July of that year we were having a family reunion at our house here in Seattle. My 87 year old father was failing. The family felt we needed to come together to celebrate him, and introduce him to his great grandchildren. All five siblings, and 11 of his 13 grandchildren came from all over the country.
Three days into the reunion, while at a picnic on Lake Washington, Dad fell and broke his hip. He never recovered, and ended up in hospice. He was an incredible and much beloved father. Sitting by his bedside as his life inched away was an honor that I cherish.
He died mid August. Since he had spent his entire adult life in Phoenix, we scheduled his memorial service in Phoenix, in mid September. After returning from the services, I escaped to Sunriver, and spent three weeks in solitude.
Keep in mind the time line here: Mid July through mid October.
The week I got home from Sunriver, I picked up a phone message. “This is Jenny. Please call.”
Jenny was Elizabeth’s mother. And Elizabeth had been in my 2nd grade classroom five years earlier. The next year, I moved from 2nd grade to become the reading specialist, and had worked with Elizabeth for an additional two years. I had acted as mentor and counselor for Elizabeth and Jenny both. Elizabeth was now in Junior High. I had not seen or talked to Jenny in two years. The message, “Please call” was not a welcome one. I did not WANT to call. I was retired now!
When I finally, begrudgingly, returned the call. Jenny’s first question was, “Are you all right?” I said, “Why do you ask?” She replied that in early July God had told her, “Pray for Paula.” She said simply, “So I did. Every day. I prayed for you. For your husband. For your kids and grandkids. And for your father.”
God had asked her to pray for me BY NAME. And had prompted her to pray for my father. She had been faithful until He told her to stop. She said, “About early October, God told me that you were OK now, and I could stop praying. But, Paula, could you tell me what was happening in your life between Mid-July, and Mid-October?” About this point, I just started sobbing.
I was blessed beyond measure. And convicted to my core. When I received that phone message, I had reacted very selfishly, thinking, “Leave me alone. I’m retired. I don’t want to give any more school advice.”
God trusted Jenny to be obedient in prayer even when she had no idea why she was praying. Jenny was faithful. She listened. She obeyed.
I was absolutely dumbfounded to know that God cared enough about me to ask someone else to pray for our entire family. How unbelievable to have been mentioned by name. How humbling for me who so often promises, “I’ll pray” and then promptly forgets.
Oh LORD, I want to be a Jenny. I want to hear Your voice. I want to be trusted to do Your work. Make me a Jenny.
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