Yesterday the entire Midwest prepared for the worst blizzard since 1967. Bottled water and candles flew off the store shelves, and snow blowers stood gassed and ready. Living across Lake Michigan from Chicago, I wondered if we’d be as hard-hit by the storm, but yesterday afternoon the winds picked up, and we got our answer, 2” of snow every hour. Half way through writing last night’s blog post, the power shut off, a frustrating development. Neighbors on one side also went dark, but on the other side, they had lights.

Within ten minutes my faithful neighbor Bob, the same guy who installed the dishwasher, was standing at my back door looking like a snowman. He was holding the end of a very long extension cord, offering to share their power “…so you can finish your blog.” Thanks to him, I did.

This morning as I came to consciousness, the first thing I heard was a snow blower. And there was Bob again, just finishing my driveway and moving on to the next. His wife Linda was edging with her shovel, and I stumbled out there as soon as I could throw a coat over my pajamas. But the work had already been done, and once again I was overcome with gratitude for these selfless neighbors.

In addition to my driveway getting cleared of deep snow that would have taken me hours to shovel, God was busy doing something else. He was making good on his promise to take care of a widow. From his throne room he’d been watching everything happening on the earth. And while keeping track of the needs of 6,897,500,000 people, he even noticed me.

Without mitigating Bob and Linda’s superb snow removal effort, I want to also give credit to God for being the motivation behind their kindness. He has sent assistance and encouragement to me again and again, not only through my next-door-neighbors but also by way of other friends and even complete strangers.

Although I don’t have a husband to look out for me anymore, I have a “Heavenly Husband” who manages the job with flare by sending willing servants like Bob and Linda to be his hands and feet. In the 15 months since Nate died, these two have done more for me than I could ever repay.

But that’s the beauty of it. They aren’t looking for repayment. And because of that, like it or not, the deeds they do for me and others will be handsomely rewarded in the world to come. It’ll be “ka-ching, ka-ching” on their heavenly crowns as the finest jewels are added.

This morning after Bob and his blower had moved on down the road, Linda and I stood in the snowy street and talked. I said, “Do you ever worry he’ll overdo it?”

“Oh, I don’t worry. When he passed me just now he said, ‘Isn’t this fun’?”

“Ka-ching!”

“Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love. You reward everyone according to what they have done.” (Psalm 62:11-12)

Once in a while Jack will walk up to me and quietly whine. If he’s been walked and fed, I’m not sure what he wants and wish he could say it in words, so I could help him.

Little children have a similar problem. They’re born with needs and opinions but can’t talk for a couple of long years. Parents are left to interpret the different nuances of their cries and behavior, hoping they’ll understand.

Recently when my five grandchildren were here, all of them were sick. When they didn’t feel good, they’d whimper and cry, but four of the five couldn’t use words to say what they were feeling. Sore throat? Clogged sinuses? Tummy ache? Headache? We could only guess.

During those weeks, there were several other reasons we wished our little ones had words: important items began disappearing. One day a baby monitor we’d used in the morning was nowhere to be found by afternoon. About the size of a cordless phone but white and with an antenna, it should have been easy to find.

All of us hunted with diligence, becoming increasingly frustrated not to find it. A day of searching went by and then two. We even prayed about it, not so much for the intense need of the monitor as to know where it went. “Lord, you see it right now. Won’t you show us?”

Of course we asked our small fry, using the other half of the monitor-set as bait. “Do you know where one of these is? Where did you put it?” Only half joking, we said, “Just say it in words!” But of course they couldn’t.

Many times Nicholas or Skylar would dash off, acting like they knew, raising our hopes of finding it. Sadly, though, after several days, we could only conclude it had gone into a local landfill by way of our trash.

Why didn’t God answer our prayer and show us the monitor? It would have been easy for him, yet he refused. I find this exasperating yet symbolic of many of our unanswered prayers. It’s as if we pray, “Just say it in words, Lord! Tell us where to look, what to do, which to choose.”

I can’t count the times I’ve prayed the “tell me” prayer. Right now I’m asking about my phone charger. I put it someplace safe before the kids arrived and now can’t find it.

Why doesn’t God usually answer these prayers? Maybe he wants us to:

• practice waiting
• increase in patience
• learn to be careful next time
• learn to handle frustration
• order our priorities
• find humor in the situation

Apparently our family needed to learn those things, because we never found the monitor…

…until today.

While cleaning out the candle cabinet (a child-high, double-door cupboard), there it was. Little hands had hidden it in the back. Maybe we’d learned our lessons after all.

And interestingly, God didn’t use words to answer our prayer.

“ ‘Can anyone [or anything] hide from me in a secret place? Am I not everywhere in all the heavens and earth?’ says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:24)

Memoirs are big business these days, and not just for celebrities. Anyone can self-publish a life story, a valuable gift for generations to come. “Getting it in writing” is a wonderful way to preserve the family history told in stories by grandma and grandpa.

My sister, brother and I made an effort to record our folks’ remembrances before video cams were available, using a cassette recorder and still photography. None of us anticipated what a treat it would be to hear their voices after they’d died, and of course the stories they told of the Great Depression, of family deaths, of their courting months were priceless.

Video memoirs are also popular, adding the face and voice to a loved one’s explanation of what’s most important to him or her. The wisdom of age is precious, and preserving it in print or on video is worth the effort.

There’s another way a person can communicate their life story: a charm bracelet. Originally soldiers wore charms for good luck during war or as identification in case they died on the battlefield. At the time of the Roman Empire, underground church members would wear tiny fish charms attached to their clothing to identify themselves to other Christians.

It wasn’t until British royalty began wearing charm bracelets in the early 1900’s that they became trendy, and ever since then the fashion world has fallen in and out of love with charms. When I was 16, my first boyfriend started a bracelet for me, and I was thrilled. Over two year’s time, he added nine silver charms, each one proving how well he knew my life story. When people were inquisitive about the bracelet, I got a chance to speak-out my memoir.

I have a second charm bracelet put together on a family trip to Europe in the 1960’s, one charm for each country we visited. My sister has a gold charm bracelet given on her wedding day when her groom presented her with a charm representing their marriage.

All of us want to mark the milestone events of our lives in a special way. It’s healthy and helpful. Memoirs, recordings and bracelets can accomplish this. Scripture demonstrates the same principle when God told his people to pile up stones of remembrance or make altars of worship as monuments of watershed moments with him, “lest you forget.”

He reminded them often of his personal touch on their lives and wanted them to know beyond doubt he’d always be there for them. Sadly, they had a dismal track record of remembering. A few charm bracelets might have helped.

And right there is the loftiest purpose of a memoir, to serve as a reminder of God’s consistency in touching our lives. During the daily grind when nothing special is happening, it’s easy to forget his former activity in our lives. We wonder if he’ll ever do amazing things for us again or if he’s forgotten about us.

Knowing who he is, this kind of thinking is shameful. Instead we ought to read our own memoirs and be lifted back to a place of belief and full expectation.

 “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.” (Psalm 77:11-12)