November 28, 2005 - Dear Gabby

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November 28, 2005

Dear Gabby,

I am an Apostolic young lady who lives with my unsaved parents. At first it was really difficult but I’ve managed to win my siblings to the Lord so that makes things better. I know with all my heart that God loves us very much. He proved it to us on Calvary and anytime I get doubts in my mind I can find an answer to it.

In a household with completely opposite beliefs between the parents and the children, there tends to be a lot of arguing. In one of the arguments, there was a question that stumped me. My father, who grew up in a rough crowd, asked me “If God is so merciful, why did he allow my 14 year-old friend to be shot and killed in a drive-by shooting? And why did God allow my father to be so abusive to my mother and me?” I was stumped. I couldn’t explain to him why those things happened. If it ever comes up again, how could I explain?

Could you help me Gabby?

Stumped in St Cloud

Dear Ms. St. Cloud,

Sunday afternoon drives were the highlight of the week for our family. Once we returned home from church, had changed into our everyday clothes, eaten dinner, and cleaned up the kitchen, the five of us would crowd into Papa’s beloved Model T and take to the roads outside our town. We’d drive up and down the hills and around curves, us kids hanging our heads out the windows, looking at the farms, the animals, and whatever beautiful scenery God had provided as a feast for our eyes.

Papa enjoyed the driving. Us kids loved the wind blowing through our hair and discovering what would be around the next corner. My sweet Mama just enjoyed the time together—even though she continued to half-heartedly scold us about catching our death of cold in all that wind and to remind Papa not to drive so fast. After all, 22 miles per hour was faster than “God had ever intended.” Still, we always returned home happy, full of fresh air, ready for a snack, and anxious for the next Sunday afternoon to arrive so we could go again.

Which was why I was so disappointed that October Sunday afternoon when neither Susannah nor Stanley were feeling well and Mama decided that we’d have to forgo our drive so the two of them could take a nap. This was before the days of heaters in cars and she was concerned that their runny noses would get worse if they spent too much time outside. But it was a lovely day, with blue skies and mild temperatures and when my Papa saw my disappointed face, he looked at my Mama until she finally said, “Oh, why don’t you two just go?”

“Really?” I asked, looking at one and then the other with hope in my voice.

“Really,” she said, rolling her eyes at Papa’s grin. “Just be sure to take your coat along and keep your head inside the car so you don’t catch the same thing your sister and brother have.”

It was a perfect day for a Sunday afternoon drive with the sun shining brightly and the fluffy clouds floating lazily across the blue sky. I felt so special to be going on a drive alone with my Papa. How often did I get the chance to have him all to myself?

And what a lovely visit we had as Papa drove the curvy, hilly land. We drove for at least a half hour or more, looking at the farms and the cows and the horses and the geese. It was the animals that made Papa nervous, I found out later. They seemed to be acting strangely, he told me. I remember looking at them closely to see what he meant, but I couldn’t tell anything.

Suddenly, with no warning at all, a very strong wind came up and, in just moments it blew in a big bank of angry-looking clouds and much, much colder temperatures. “What’s happening, Papa?” I asked him, as I pulled my coat on, fastening it up to my chin.

“I don’t really know,” he answered, as he drove to the side of the road to turn the car around “but whatever it is, it’s not good.”

What followed should have been the scariest and most dangerous storm of my life. The wild wind not only blew hard enough to rock Papa’s Model T until I thought it might overturn, but it also caused damage to the roofs of many farm houses and barns in the area, and brought rain that changed into several inches of a very early, very wet snow that covered the road home.

I wasn’t scared though. I knew that, no matter how hard the wind blew or how much snow fell on the road; I was safe with my Papa. At times, during that long hour, as I looked back and forth between the storm blowing outside the car and Papa driving us carefully and slowly toward home, I wasn’t sure how he’d manage it but I never doubted, not for a minute, that my Papa would get me safely there. I couldn’t have made it by myself, but my life was secure in the hands of my big, strong, wise Papa.

If I had a chance to chat with your father, Ms. St Cloud, about why God allowed bad things to happen in his life, I’d tell him that everyone has to go through hard times in their lives. We’re not in heaven yet! But, those of us who choose to put our lives in the control of our Heavenly Father know that He’ll get us safely home. Others have to try to make their way alone and their way is harder because they don’t have their Heavenly Father’s wisdom to help direct them.

As I discovered when I was just a child, you never go wrong when your father is on your side. In the same way that your own father would do anything to protect you, and my own father spent his life protecting me, God is even more of a Father to us. Smart people put their trust in Him.

Sincerely Sincere,

Gabby

ninetyandnine.com

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Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers!