Back in my days as a Fuel youth leader, one of the kids put on the youth group calendar “Laura’s 40th Birthday,” and I was enraged when Tristan told me, “Wow, Laura, you look great for forty.”
“I went to high school with your brother!” I screamed.
Because I work with teenagers, I quickly adjusted course to tell people I look great for forty. As I approach that actual age (and still look great for forty), I’ve had to adjust to say I look great for sixty.
In my daily scouring of the city listings for houses to rent, I came across a posting yesterday for a house with a wet area shower in the conveniently located spot across from the mall which local readers will recognise as the retirement village. The listing says the house is only available for people over sixty. I’ve sent an inquiry, obviously. I actually have been allowed to apply for one in this neighbourhood previously after pleading about the limitations of accessible housing in this city.
I’m praying God will calm the storm. I don’t know if that means getting this house. I’m also still praying for a full healing where I wouldn’t need to live in a retirement village – though I imagine I’d have a blast with the eldery neighbours.
Thursday evening my friend Jasmine came over to pray with me (and catch up about how much we both love Jesus). It was honestly so precious, and I love that she’s been so stirred up in the past year especially to make time to pray for me and with me. I also had the chance to call one of my former students and her husband who live in Paris and spend some time in prayer with them. I taught this girl thirteen years ago, and she’s only ever known me as Ms. Hewett, so when she married this vibrant Frenchman a few years back and introduced him to me on a visit to Kandern, she told her husband, “This is Ms. Hewett.” Despite the fact he’s never been a student in my class, he respectfully only refers to me as “Ms. Hewett.” He also prays for me with passion and conviction. He only came to faith shortly before getting married, and his zeal is still fresh as he shares about Jesus with everyone he meets and consistently lifts every need before God with faith and expectation.
Words fall short to describe the precious experience of hearing this young man pray over me – this ancient schoolteacher – in his native tongue: fervent French phrases flowing with a “Ms. Hewett” dropped in the middle. God showed up in that moment in such a unique way. I felt God’s presence in a very real way, locked in and united with people in Paris taking a lunch break on a hot summer day to pray over me in the dark and cold of Christchurch thousands of miles away. Nothing changed in that moment for my physical limitations, but I still know that God is moving, and the story isn’t over.
This past week we ticked over the six year mark of that “God is punishing you with a disability” conversation, and I had a moment to put that person before the Lord again on purpose. January will be thirteen years since my spinal cord injury, but I had a laugh with a friend today who was amazed at my flippant comment about what calendar date I think of as the one in which I woke up in the wrong timeline. When she pointed out the obvious assumption that it would be the day I broke my back, my reflection was that breaking my back, life altering as it is, has always sat in the “God’s got this” category rather than “I’m in the wrong timeline.” There are things about my life that suck because of my ongoing disability, but being a youth pastor who lives in a retirement community would only be a great set up for a joke rather than a sign of apocalyptic doom in my life.
