To Him Who is Willing and Able, be all honor and praise.

My soul is in deep anguish.
    How long, Lord, how long?

Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
    save me because of Your unfailing love.

The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
    the Lord accepts my prayer. Psalm 6

Flora Gonzales has been waiting twenty-eight years to tell me a story. She went to the top dresser drawer and pulled out a zip-lock baggie which contained a well-worn napkin and a photo of me.

Earlier in the day Flora had bemoaned her perfect memory, each and every detail of her life is stored on a shelf labeled with time, date, setting, and she never forgets, even those sorts of things that can haunt you.

I, on the other hand, am perfectly capable of forgetting all sorts of things, which can be handy in the world of letting go, but not so much in the world of God Almighty Doing Amazing Works.

It’s important to notice. To pile up rocks of remembrance. Or keep napkins in zip-lock baggies.

Flora worked with me on the ranch, through it all, the cleaning of the beans and putting them on the stove to boil, the rolling out of two kilos of tortillas, the chopping of onions, chiles and tomatoes, the scrubbing, the mopping, and of course, the swirling flies. Later on she became the community social worker and trained women and families into all sorts of wellness, but at the beginning it was she and I against dozens of hungry bellies. Even now she runs a well-oiled (in more ways than one) and delicious taco stand in the plaza that gives employment to seven women in the neighborhood.

Flora had a great sorrow in life, no children after many years of marriage to one of our builders and well diggers, Elfido Granillo. And I do very clearly remember the first part of the story, the vision that I had sitting in my bedroom early one morning that gave me the courage to speak to her about this soul anguish. A vision of God answering prayers for those who wait. I happened to be waiting under a great big tree by the river.

So, anyways. Flora had very dutifully copied my instructions for making a cheesecake, and I was headed out for the double-cab pick-up truck to Navojoa, most likely for yet another trip to the hardware store, the lumberyard, the propane tank warehouse, and of course the grocery store. I did this trip a lot.

But before I left, we talked about prayer to the God who is both Loving and Powerful. The One Who Is Willing and Able. And Flora wrote “L S” on the napkin to verify that “Si, lo sé.”

And then, according to Flora, I explained two types of prayer, the general “Bless me and my family,” sort of prayer, and the specific, detailed prayers that beloved children whisper to their Abba Daddy. That was the sort of prayer we were going to pray this morning before the day dumped down on us.

What do you want, Flora?

I want a child.

No, no. How many children do you want?

I want three children.

Okay. And the first child, a boy or a girl?

A girl. A girl who is smart and beautiful.

And what will you name her?

Jovana. And Flora carefully drew a J to represent this little girl, with swirling flowers to represent her intelligence and beauty.

And the second child?

A boy. A boy named Elfidito. A boy who drives trucks, rides horses, flies planes, and has a motorcycle.

And the third child?

A girl. A girl who is artistic and loves to sew and design clothes. And Flora drew a sewing machine.

And this is Flora’s family, thirty years later. And Jovana earned the second highest score on a highly competitive teacher certification process and is a beautiful and brilliant teacher who celebrated her son’s third birthday two days ago, Flora’s beloved grandchild David.

And Elfidito dropped out of the university to drive trucks and buses for a year, but now he is studying business. And he trains horses to dance and rides a motorcycle, but Flora is sort of hoping that he doesn’t decide to fly airplanes.

And Marlys was going to go to the university to study clothing design, but it was too expensive, so now she is studying nursing, and then she will get a job to pay for design school. But mostly, her life is about something else, and after I left Alamos Sunday, Marlys texted me: I want to serve God just like you and my mother, with children and people in need. Pray for me, that this desire and hope with never go out.

My soul is in deep anguish.
    How long, Lord, how long?

Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
    save me because of Your unfailing love.

The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
    the Lord accepts my prayer. Psalm 6

Amen and amen.

Less we ever forget.