Eve’s Apple

I wanted to do it when I wanted to, not when it was suggested. I didn’t want to rely on others to give me a ride and inconvenience them. I hated to do that. Then I remembered my prayers about submission. After thinking about it, I told Samuel that I would like to take the car in that evening. After calling the women in the group, strangely enough, no one was home, not even the next morning. That meant I would have to ride my bike five miles to the church. It was late October and a bit cold, but it would be ok. God knew what He was doing. After the meeting on the way home, I drove my bike past a big, old Victorian home that sat on the corner of a block in town. I had seen the home a million times before driving by in the car but never really looked at it or knew what it was. I always thought it was a private residence of a rich family. As I biked alongside the house, I looked into one of the big side bay windows. A woman, named Ethel, I’d later learn, was working on a puzzle. She looked up and waved to me with a faraway look in her eye. I smiled and waved back. The feeling left me chilled somehow. Then I heard a voice speak to me as loudly as if I were having a conversation with someone right next to me. “I want you to go in there.” At first I tried to dismiss the voice as somehow my own mind. I thought I’m not going in that house. I don’t even know a single person there. What would they think if I just went up and knocked on their door? And anyway, what would I be going in there for? I kept riding. As I turned the corner, the big home’s front was now to my right side. As I pedaled by the front of the house, another woman, named Georgia, I would learn later, simply raised a limp hand trying to wave at me silently without expression. Again I heard a voice say loudly, “I want you to go into this house.” I knew without a doubt it was the Holy Spirit speaking to me. I argued with Him, again saying to myself I don’t know anyone in there. I don’t even know what I’d say. No, I’m not going in there. I can’t believe I even thought of arguing with God . . . but I did. Thankfully, He has patience and is forgiving. Just then I looked up to see a large bag of trash, cut open and strewn all over the sidewalk. I had to get off my bike and walk around it on the grass. Wow, where did that come from? I didn’t see that before. As I was getting back on my bike, again I heard the voice say to me, strongly but gently, “This is your last chance. I want you to go into this house.” I began to pedal forward but then slowly leaned over, got off, and turned my bike back toward the house. Ok Lord, I hear You. I know it’s You, and I am going into that house for You. I don’t have a clue what You want me to do, but I am going. At least You could give me some Girl Scout cookies or something so that I’d have a reason to appear at their door knocking. I parked my bike on the front steps and slowly ascended to the big wooden double doors. I felt like a kid who was fulfilling a dare or something. I knocked once, twice, no answer. But I knew this did not get me off the hook. So I quietly turned the knob on the door and pushed it open slowly. It opened into a beautiful entryway with a wooden banister and winding staircase going upstairs, a parlor with overstuffed leather couches, and a big dining room full of fireplaces and large windows looking out to the sidewalk I had just been riding on. There was no one there. I looked off to the left and saw a long hallway with a ramp. As I started to walk down the ramp a woman in nurse’s clothing came out and asked me if there was something she could help me with. Ok, Lord this is Yours. You are on! Help me out here. I came to realize that it was an assisted living place, but one that really looked like someone’s personal home. In my reply all I could muster up was, “Is there someone here who could use a visit?” Wow, Lord, that sounds kinda lame . . . but let’s go with that. She didn’t even bat an eye and said, “Oh, yes, there’s Georgia. She has a son, but he doesn’t come often, and she would love to have someone to talk to.” She simply showed me her room and left to go about her business. I was stunned. I just walked in and started talking with a woman whom I’d never met before in my life, and no one even questioned me. Later I found out that they were very conscientious about who came and went, and even had an alarm on the door, but that day God had prepared them for my coming. I spent two hours with Georgia, getting to know her and sitting with her at dinner. After dinner, on my way out, a woman named Linda was sitting in her wheel chair waiting for a ride down the ramp. She asked me why I was there. “I really am not sure, but I felt compelled to come here,” I replied. “It’s a story I really can’t explain. I don’t have any relatives closer than nine hours away. My own grandparents have all died. I suppose I was coming to have family in a way.”