Sometimes You Just Gotta Ask

About a year ago, a woman named Debbie from the church I used to attend passed away. If I remember correctly, she had died in her home and no one knew about it until a while later.

I learned something from this woman once. She was a peculiar character, this Debbie. She always wore a blue bandana around her head and a brown leather bomber jacket every Sunday I saw her. She had on this bulky leather coat all the time, even when the temperature rose to a muggy 95 degrees in August. Just looking at her made me sweat. Maybe she was cold-blooded. Or immune to sweating. I don’t know. Just thought it was weird.

I liked Debbie. I didn’t mind that she smelled like a used up carton of Marlboro Reds or she had a toothless grin. Her smile reminded me of a baby’s. Simple. Unfettered. I didn’t know her story. I didn’t think it was in my place to ask. I just knew she went to almost every service on the weekends (we had three). I think she fell asleep during some of the services. Oh well, neither here nor there.

Debbie always made an effort to say hi to me every weekend. I’d like to think it had to do with my charm and winning personality but, frankly, she had a particular penchant for expensive Italian handbags. And I do have quite a collection. So every time she flashed her cavernous grin, her eyes would immediately dart to the bag resting on my shoulder. And because I frequently switched bags, she paid extra attention to me.

There was a particular red bag I wore that I just know made her drool. I know because it made me drool and feel warm and fuzzy all over. I can’t remember what brand it was, but it was pricey. And one of my favorites. The leather was incredibly supple and butter-soft. You could have used it as a pillow. Or gone on a date with it, it was so stunning.

Debbie walked over to me the third Sunday I wore it. I was happy to see her and gave her a cheery smile. Of course, I admired her good taste. As she groped my fire engine red, fine leather specimen, she asked me a bold question. “If you are done wearing it, can I have it?” I didn’t hesitate, not even for a millisecond. Nothing crossed my mind—not even subconsciously—other than, “Sure.”

Let me be clear about something. Before I pride myself on being the most generous person in the world, I suppose that if I didn’t have a billion other bags, or if I had just bought it only hours earlier, or if Debbie was a snot-nosed, punk teenager who felt entitled to anything of quality, or if I was feeling particularly selfish or was sick or tired or had real bad cramps, I probably would have balked at her request or maybe even said no. But I swear to it, it didn’t cross my mind.

Anyway, a few weeks passed and I honestly forgot about her request until I saw her in church and she commented on the new mustard colored bag from Milan I sported. I felt like an idiot for forgetting to give her the red bag and made sure to bring it with me to church the following Sunday. And I did. I wrapped in a pretty pink bag with a bow, kissed her on the cheek, gave it to her, and told her I hoped she would enjoy it. Debbie beamed with joy. Her grateful attitude was unmistakable.

As I walked away, I saw two people volley gazes from me to Debbie to the bright red purse. One woman in particular glared at me like I had committed the unpardonable sin. Like I had just offered Debbie a bag of weed and a forty ounce. Honestly, I didn’t what they were thinking, but I know it wasn’t good. Nothing good can possibly come from a beady-eyed glare. Whatever.

Almost immediately, some words came to my mind which I believe was one of those God moments. The kind where he brushes your hair out of your eyes so you can see the twinkle in his. The kind where he cups his hands over your hard-of-hearing ears and whispers something brief but poignant. These are holy hushes of wisdom so quiet, you’ll likely miss them if you’re not paying careful attention.

In the depths of my heart I heard, "Sometimes you just have to ask."

I got the understanding that’s how our relationship is with God. That while the quality of our lives depends on the sometimes crazy combination of faith, decent living, prayer, meditation, happenstance, the influence of the spirit realm, we can’t forget that we are also a part of that equation. God can’t give us anything we don’t ask for.

Maybe you need healing. Or a restored relationship. Or some miraculous intervention. Or an answered prayer for a friend. Or for your teenager to find the right path again. Or for your cravings to stop. Whatever it is…however big or trivial. Sometimes there is just no space for the miraculous to take place if we don’t ask for them and create some wiggle room.

I think it's time for some of you out there to get ready to recieve whatever it is you've been asking for:)