Tom Hallman, Jr. is a storyteller. More specifically, he is a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for The Oregonian, our state’s largest newspaper. He specializes in warm-hearted, thoughtful, human-interest stories. As a long-time subscriber to the newspaper, I know that whenever I see his byline, I’m in for a treat.

I was recently so moved by one of his stories that I wrote to him to express my appreciation for his article. I was happily surprised to receive a prompt reply. He wrote, “I want to thank you for taking the time to write to me regarding my story. A writer creates in isolation and then sends a story into the world, having no idea if it will resonate with readers.” He then told me that he had published a book with a collection of his stories.

I promptly ordered the book and began reading it straight through. One of his stories, called “Daniel and the Door”, told about Daniel, who had led a rough life but began to put the shattered pieces of his life back together again behind the door of Room #402, his room in a halfway house. As I read about Daniel’s Room #402, I had to stop and catch a quick breath because I also live in Room #402. I recently moved 20 miles across town to a cozy little apartment in a 55+ condo community a mile from my daughter’s home. Just as Daniel found great blessing in putting his shattered life back together again in his little room, I am also finding great blessing in my own little space. But it is with quite a difference. Rather than starting life anew as Daniel was, I am gathering up any loose ends as I begin to wind down my life, aiming to finish it well.

(Interestingly — and coincidentally — my granddaughter’s college dorm room is #204! There seems to be something sweetly symbolic about the bookends aspect of these reversed numbers bracketing our life’s journeys — she just starting out in life as I am nearing the end of mine.)

God’s all-encompassing knowledge of us is almost too much to comprehend. How blessed we are to know that He keeps complete track of each of us in this world of millions of people.

“But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.” (Matthew 10:29b NLT)

If He cares enough to keep track of even the little sparrows in this world, He can certainly find me behind door #402. How has He shown you His deep and personal care — as though you were the only one that He had to care for? Thank Him for this blessing upon blessing!

Prayer: Dear Father in heaven, we are so grateful that You know all about us and even know exactly where we are — in our own little “Room #402”. Thank You for Your all-encompassing, never-ending love and care for each of us. Amen.

Gail Lundquist
Beaverton, Oregon, USA
POEMS!

Republished with author’s permission from PresbyCan