The third night, another awakening—it was 4:30 a.m. I finally tossed back the covers and very irreverently said, “Okay, God. What is it?”
I got up and plopped into the red chaise lounge chair right next to my bed, the place where I most often read and prayed. The book The Power of a Praying Wife by Stormie Omartian4 was lying face down on my chair, open to chapter 9. I had been praying the prayers outlined on the pages almost daily, but I hadn’t been reading the actual text of the chapters. Not knowing what else to do, I began to read the contents of chapter 9, titled “His Purpose”: “Everyone has a purpose. It’s the reason we exist. . . . When [your husband] discovers that purpose, and is doing what he was created to do, becoming what he was created to be, he will find fulfillment. This can only contribute to your happiness as well.”5 The tears began to flow as I turned each page. It was as if God were writing on the pages of this book with a black marker, “Go to Chicago!”
Surely God wasn’t asking me to leave everything I had ever known
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