The next morning, after discovering in the middle of the night that my room reservation had been cancelled, I began looking for other accommodations. I began this adventure with much anticipation, as I have watched the Lord so faithfully throughout my life close one door to direct me through another, a much better door. So I told my loving Father that morning that I simply could not wait to find HIS accommodation for me – the room He had booked for me before I was born (Psalm 139:16).
As I set out that morning, I thought back on my very first trip to Israel in March of 2005, and the room that had been planned for me so long ago. I had “escaped” to Israel to search for the only One who could understand my pain of rejection and abandonment after 28 years of marriage, and cry in His arms. And I found Him in His place of rejection and abandonment – the Garden of Gethsemane, the “oil press” of tears.
In 2005 the Lord provided a wonderful room for me in a convent inhabited by French speaking, and singing, nuns. The women’s quarters was full, by His plan, so that He could give me a very special room immediately next to the sanctuary. Each night I was sung to sleep, and each morning I was awakened by absolutely beautiful a cappella music. The sweet nuns sounded like a chorus of angels, specially sent to minister just to me. Truly, He surrounds us with songs of deliverance (Psalms 32:7). With this beautiful memory in mind, I set out that morning to look for a room in a convent or monastery.
What I found was beyond my expectation, but not my surprise. The entire 26 bedroom and bath convent located on the Mount of Olives, had been reserved just for me (and one other couple from Futuna Island in the Pacific). The convent was impeccably clean and quiet, but most wonderful of all it had a beautiful garden, filled with His Presence. I began every day in that garden reading, listening, writing, singing, and reflecting on my life’s journey that had brought me once again to Jerusalem. I had come to work in a very busy women’s shelter but my Father had other plans for me, plans that began in another garden but would be fulfilled in another venue, a musical one – from Gethsemane’s Tears to Listening to What Visions Hear…
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