Favorite One

I woke up this morning and immediately knew that something good was going to happen. What I expected, and what happened are completely different, though. Something good usually translates itself into meaning news on Seattle. Today was not about Seattle.

Today was about letting God be in charge. I don't need to see fifty yards in front of me, I just need the 3 inches that are in front of me toes. His Word is the lamp unto my path, but that doesn't usually mean that miles and miles of the path are lit up at a time. Just enough for my next step. Sometimes I get caught up on me. We're probably all guilty of that, and more guilty than we want to admit to ourselves or to anyone else. I've been feeling pretty down about Seattle and have been trying to brace myself for disappointment (why should I be disappointed, nothing has happened yet!?). In the midst of the pity party, I surrendered the future to the Lord and decided to live in the present (the HARDEST thing for me to do).

In speaking with a dear friend of mine at lunch, we encouraged each other. I never before understood why my life had been the way it has. I used to look at the other Christians around me and wonder why I was different. God would talk to them. He would bless them with huge gifts and amazing connections. Every day I have struggled. Or so I thought.

With no disrespect meant toward any of my family members, I considered my upbringing. My oldest sister was extremely smart. Everything she has ever tried to do, she has succeeded at. She is brilliant, talented, and ambitious. Everything she has ever wanted, she has gotten. Easily(or so it has seemed from an outsider's point of view). My middle sister was my father's favorite. Growing up, he showed her special care. He encouraged her, showered his attention on her, and spent considerable amounts of time shielding, protecting her, and ensuring that she had everything she needed to be okay. Me. The little sister. I did not have this experience. The time I spent with my father was just that. Time. I got to sit on his lap. He took me outside to work on building fences. I helped him fold drop cloths and tile the bathroom. I did not get words of encouragement or exclamations of pride. I got time.

I remember a story about a little girl who would not let her father pick her up. She would wiggle and squirm and cry until he would let go. The father was so unhappy with this situation and did not know what to do. Finally, one day, he picked the little girl up and held her tight. As she wriggled and squirmed and threw a fit, he kept on holding her. After a long time, she gave up and settled down...finally at rest and comfortable in the arms of her father.

The Lord, my Father, has been good to me. He has held me close for years. I do not often hear His audible voice. Very little happens easily for me. I make mistakes regularly. People have often misread me and said things that are just plain hurtful and untrue. For years this bothered me, until today. My Father has been giving me time with Him. Just like my earthly father has. He has held me close...close to His heart. I know Him, just like a sheep who knows the shepherd. A life without Him would be interminable. I've been resting under His wings...I have found a shelter in Him!

This was a good day. He spoke to me...and He spoke to those around me. I have prayed that this Seattle experience would be an example and a testimony to all around. God is answering that prayer...and so many more!