Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Abiding in His Love 8/27-9/3/26 (08/27/26)
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TITLE: Sitting in the Sunshine | Previous Challenge Entry
By Joanna Dietz
09/03/26 -
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After marrying Tom, Mary had continued in the workforce even while raising their three delightful children. By the time her eldest entered high school, Mary had been promoted to upper management. Even as she climbed the career ladder, Tom and Mary had become acutely aware of the need for their growing children to succeed not only in their education but also in their walks with God. Although they had always faithfully attended Sunday services, Tom and Mary now committed themselves and their children to service opportunities and the midweek prayer meeting. And the investment had paid off.
As a teen, their firstborn had volunteered to clean the church restrooms and by the age of thirty was serving as head custodian. Their second, after drifting from the faith for years, had recommitted his life to Christ, returning to the truth he had heard Sunday after Sunday. And finally, Julia, their youngest, having married a friend from Bible school, had moved back home and lived just across town.
Tom and Mary knew they were blessed. They also knew that change would come.
And change did come, when Tom, only 68, was suddenly bedridden after a severe heart attack.
Unwilling to let another be his caretaker, Mary had taken family leave. Embracing the monotony of bathing and feeding, Mary had discovered a sweet opportunity to show her Tom she loved him.
But then came the second heart attack. No longer was there a need to bathe and feed.
Still grieving, Mary had heeded her own advice: work is good medicine. Returning to the office, she found more time to invest in those she supervised, having learned afresh the value of human souls. So on she worked, until growing arthritic pains forced her to retire on her seventieth birthday.
Once retired, Mary spent more time with family, staying for weeks at a time in each of her children’s homes.
But those days were long gone. The arthritis had worsened. Stubbornly refusing to leave her home, a bad fall and broken hip had landed Mary in the hospital. Unable to remain alone, Mary now permanently lived with Julia and her husband.
The hip had healed, but Mary’s mobility was never the same. First came the walker. Next, the wheelchair. Now, at ninety, she couldn’t even maneuver herself. Someone else pushed her.
Just like someone else washed her hair.
Somone else dressed her.
Someone else assisted her to the restroom.
In this condition, Mary now sat in her wheelchair before the window. Now there seemed little more to do than sitting in the sunshine. It was how she spent every afternoon, alone with her thoughts.
Thoughts of the times of babies, diapers, and laundry baskets. Times back at the office, where every day ended with the satisfaction of having accomplished something. Times she had been able to help someone—the best kind of accomplishment.
And so, it would be no surprise to see a tear or frown upon Mary’s wrinkled face, one who now so frail had once lived so alive.
Yes, there had been tears. Yes, angry complaints had ascended to heaven.
What was the meaning of her continued existence?
Was she just supposed to wait for death?
What ought to occupy the days, weeks, years she might spend here, unable to do much of anything?
Although a prisoner in her own body, Mary was still strong in mind. And as the days had passed into weeks, the hours of quiet reflection spent before the window had yielded their bounty.
Today, a small smile glowed on Mary’s face. Could someone be coming to visit? Maybe something had momentarily distracted her from the chronic pain? Maybe she was reliving a happy memory?
For so many years, her family, career, and ministry—all so good—had formed her identity. Now, so much had been stripped away. No more accomplishments or visible impact.
To what could the old woman cling now?
How could she smile?
She was starting to understand, more clearly than ever before, that God loved her. He had demonstrated so when He sent His Son. Nothing she could do—not in the past nor the future—would ever change His love for her. Relinquishing her former identity, she’d be content to exist, simply an object of His love. That’s all she had ever needed to be.
Rain or shine, God loved Mary. And so, she could smile.
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