Submitted by: Elnora White
“Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day!” I hear geese honking, flying to some unknown destination. This day in February feels like an early spring day. The bright, warm sun seems to be shining directly upon this spot, a stone bench outside of Chapel where I sit. Thick rows of fir trees line the bluffs behind the parking lot. A large, bright flag hangs softly, edges turning gently in the breeze. The brick chapel’s tall white steeple points toward heaven, offering comfort to all generations. It is a homey and picturesque reminder in each village or town of our need to touch God.
This chapel has been the warm, comforting hug of retirees, and the encouragement of a few dear families to fellowship with in our homes. It has been an affirmation of my husband and I as Christian parents and people. But it hasn’t always been that way. Sometimes, the feeling of belonging in a Church body takes time.
I remember when my family first felt called to attend the chapel service on our base. It was a new church community for us, and in our previous duty station we had left behind rich fellowship and relationships at a civilian church. I remember my then five-year-old son and I developing a routine after the chapel service was over and we were heading to our Suburban. Ian would pick holly berries off of a tree near the front of our chapel building. We would walk side-by-side, tossing berries over our shoulders and making “wish prayers” to our Lord. My prayer was always the same: ”Dear Lord, please help us to get invited to a family’s home so we can eat and fellowship together and begin to feel like we belong.” How many Sundays did I pray this prayer, tossing berries over my shoulder?
Thankfully, after months of faithful chapel attendance, God heard our prayers. My son and I exclaimed to each other after our first dinner with a family, “The wish prayer, the wish prayer! God heard our prayer!”
The Lord has given my husband and me a calling to attend our chapel on base and plug into our military community. Sometimes we wondered what we were doing and how long the dry spell would last for us at our new chapel. As I look back upon God’s faithfulness to our family, I remember a verse my mother used to quote to me when I was a child. ”If the vision seems slow, wait for it. It will surely come. It will not delay.” Habakkuk 2:3 (paraphrase)
Even though right now, unlike on that lovely February day, we have no chapel spire to look up at (we are meeting in the base theater due to chapel renovations), the fellowship God has given us with chapel families still points us toward heaven.
