Unfinished

In the tapestry God weaves on this “go and make disciples” journey,  threads don’t always come together like I imagine they will.

Unfinished. Conversations sometimes unraveling. Quiet dismissals.  

And me, stumbling through. Weak.

Wondering if I’m saying it in a way they can understand.

Neighbor

We move to a new neighborhood. The street’s name translates “Great Eternal Road.” Sounds promising.

And I pray for neighbors on walks.

An older woman meets me one day. And I ask the usual “Where are you going?” Common greeting. 

She’s on her way home from holy book recitation. Which she leads. Head covering always in place.

And our friendship begins. 

Welcome

She welcomes this foreigner to her neighborhood. Inviting me in for hot tea and biscuits. 

Clearing a space on the plastic-covered table for our cups, she asks me to sit.

Then, someone calls on the phone. Apologizing for the interruption, she takes it in the next room. The conversation is in a dialect I don’t speak or understand.

My eyes wander around the room. Settling on a large framed picture of her pilgrimage city. She went there with her husband one year before he died. 

Next to it, a portrait of the couple. Documenting their visit. Both are wrapped in white cloth. Smiling.

Praying

I pray before our visits. During. After. 

Crying out for this older woman to know the One and Only.

One day I find out she has an unusual job in the neighborhood. She washes the bodies of those who die. 

Preparing them for burial before the day is out.

I start praying she will come to see Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life.

Hannah

In our conversations there’s always some small opening. To speak about the Savior. I share a story from our Book. Verses.  

She is closed to these things. 

But not to me.

One day I’m asking about her childhood—and somehow the topic of naming comes up. She says, “My name before marriage that my parents called me was ‘Hana.’” 

Hannah.

Messiah

“Did you know there is a woman with that name in the Bible? The mother of an important prophet.”

She is curious to hear this.

That night I calligraphy the prayer of Hannah in her language. And give it to her the following day. 

Today I’m on the other side of the world. Reading 1 Samuel. 

I see it. Hannah’s prayer. 

It ends with Messiah.

Unfinished

And I remember Hana. 

The conversations. Small, seemingly insignificant threads that dwindled into nothing of consequence. Unfinished. 

So it seemed.

Her eyes veiled. Unresponsive. Even when this extraordinary hope offered far outweighs what her religion details.

The last day I saw her, I was moving to another country. We took a picture together. And she held on to me. Embracing her “dear friend.” 

Again, I cried out to the Lord for her eyes to see.

Release

Will she be standing before His throne some day? Dressed in white? 

Did this beloved one believe the God of Hannah and follow the Messiah on the true eternal way?

These things I cannot grasp or hold. The bits and pieces. Various shades of thread woven into this journey. 

Some left hanging. Incomplete. Unfinished.

I release them to the Author and Finisher of our faith, who knows the end from the beginning.

And simply trust the Father.

What about you?

Have you ever struggled with the “unfinished”? How has the Lord helped you?

Related

Open door – Threads – The rest of the story – Closed – Pause – Peace. Be still. – Witness – 1 Samuel 2:1-10 – John 11:25-26 – Hebrews 12:1-2 –