It pays to pray was my theme last time. Today I’m going to write about my stepmother. She is young. She turned 50 today! She has now joined the respectable number of us who are Over the Hill!
Let me go back to yesterday’s theme, that it pays to pray. My sweet little stepmother, Mary, prayed for many years about a husband. Two times, on different occasions in prayer settings, the Lord spoke to her through one of his servants, assuring her that her prayers were answered, and that a man from a far-away country would come and sweep her away. She had a hard time believing it.
Mary will agree that it pays to pray!
Five years ago, she was swept away by a tall man from a far-away country, really from across the world. She had wondered how it would be if a man from another country started courting her. Would he speak a language she couldn’t understand? It would probably take a long time for them to understand each other.
She could never have imagined that the man from a far-away country would be the missionary she had worked with for over 20 years. She knew my mother well. She used to visit with her every day and massage her feet.
Mary worked with a feeding program for needy children, together with her sisters Edita (I wrote about her in a previous blog) and Hilda. They were faithful, even in the very difficult times of the terrorism led by the Shining Path. They were threatened. One time she got a phone call from someone who wanted to scare her. “You are going to die!” a sinister voice said on the other end of the line. She answered in the same kind of sinister voice, “So are you!”
I praise the Lord for giving Mary to my dad and my dad to Mary. As his oldest daughter I feel responsible to make sure that he is taken care off. Mary takes good care of him, in the far-away country where the man came from that swept her away. It also helps that they live in the same house as my youngest sister. And she organized a surprise party, which turned out not to be a surprise, because Mary figured it out.
The tables all set, in the church’s fellowship hall
Mary arriving dressed in the typical dress
for Indian ladies in Huancayo, Peru
Seated for dinner with the man from a far-away country, Sweden,
where she now lives
Here they are, the turtle-doves. That’s what I call them.
If you’ve followed my blogging for some time, you might remember that Mary organized a party for my dad when he turned 90 two years ago (see Tales from the Land of the Incas). That was some kind of party with 800 visitors! It was meant as a reunion for those who had been blessed by my parents ministry.
The party for Mary was in Sweden. I wish I could have been there. I would have seen this cute little princess, my great-niece and Mary’s great-granddaughter.
True to Swedish custom here is Mary with her birthday-flowers. I can’t help but remember a couple of years ago when we were in Peru celebrating Mary’s older sister Hilda’s 50th birthday.
Hilda and her husband are now in charge of the children in two feeding stations. The mothers of the children celebrated their dear Hilda.
Never in a million years could I have imagined, back in 1982, 30 years ago, that Hilda, my all-in all assistant, would one day become my step-aunt!
Wonderful things happen when we pray.