And she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day
A woman, not allowed in the Holy of Holies, or even the Holy Place, or the Court of the Priests, or the Court of the Men. A widow, without someone to financially support her and comfort her. An old woman, with physical limitations and afflictions. But yet she could still serve God even though she was seemingly lacking.
My wife and I are both thankful for our praying grandmothers. Both of our grandmothers are widows, and aged, but they are serving God night and day with their prayers.
Consider the great English poet John Milton as he reflected on his angst at not being able to do “more” for God because by this point in his life, he was blind.
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
John Milton, Sonnet 19