Say Okay

This fall, I have a student teacher.  Slowly, she’s been taking on more and more responsibility.  I’m backing off from involvement with the kids and focusing my energy on coaching Miss C.  When she’s teaching and the kids come to me for help, I point to Miss C. and tell them, “Ask your teacher.  Miss C. is in charge right now.”  This past week, Miss C. led all but one hour of the school day.  It was interesting to see the students test her boundaries. 

One day, the Reading Class was especially wild and basically ignored her directions.  A tall, blonde girl named Emilia repeatedly got out of her seat and wandered the classroom during a test.  Miss C. kept asking her to sit down and stop disturbing others.  Each time, Emilia had an excuse.  I’m trying hard to let Miss C. be the boss, but when Emilia talked back to Miss C. the fifth time, I looked up from my computer and busted out my authoritative voice.  

“Emilia, when a teacher asks you to do something, you say okay and do it.  That’s it.”  

Emilia’s eyes got wide and she quickly sat down.  Minutes later, she started to get up again.  I made eye contact, shook my head no, and she plopped back down.  I smiled and gave a thumbs up.  Emilia giggled and picked up her book to read.

Today at church, the pastor made time for listening prayer.  We were supposed to ask God what was getting in the way of serving Him fully.  When I prayed, I remembered this situation with Emilia.  I really want what’s best for Emilia.  When I used my authority with her, it wasn’t without a strong, intentional plan of helping her and others succeed at reading.  Emilia is not a blatantly disobedient kid.  She just likes to do things in her time and in her way, which unfortunately, keeps her from learning as best as she could.  The excuses are minor, but they add up to a lot of wasted class time.  I thought about how often I don’t outright say no to God, but like Emilia, I give a little excuse and flit around with my own avoidance habits.  I debate with Him and don’t trust His authority or purpose enough to respond when He nudges me.

I stopped by the grocery store on the way home from church.  My mind was occupied with random stuff, like the magazine cover of Princess Kate Middleton, as I chose the shortest of the busy checkout lines.  When it was my turn, the checker barely acknowledged me.  Her head was down, and she worked in a kind of harried way.  

A phrase clearly popped into my head: “Looks like a busy day.  May I pray for you about anything?”  

It was weird.  My heartbeat sped up, which is usually my indicator that I’ve heard something from God.  This is where I typically start debating with Him about whether or not I actually heard from Him, or if I’m mistaken and about to embarrass myself.  

Another phrase came:  “When your teacher tells you to do something, you say okay.”  

My hands started to shake with nervousness.  The checker was still looking down, finishing scanning my groceries.  I asked God to give me a clear window to say what He put in my mind.  As the credit card processed, I spoke up.  

“It looks like you’re really busy today.  Is there anything I can pray for you about?”  

The checker stopped working and looked at me with intensity.  Her lower lip began to quiver.  

“Yes,” she said, fighting tears and going back to focusing on the cash register, “You can pray about something.  My brother just died.” 

“Okay, I’ll pray for you,” I said. “I think God told me to ask you that, so just know that He loves you.” 

I usually don’t get help out to the car, but the teenage bag boy insisted on taking my groceries for me.  He said he had to go outside and collect carts anyway.  

As we walked out, he said, “I never hear people do stuff like that.”  

I asked, “Do you believe in God?”  

He said yes, but that things were funky for him spiritually.  “I used to pray for people and even saw some miracles and stuff, but I don’t do that anymore.”  

I told him how nervous I had been to ask the checker about prayer.  He shared more about why it was tough for him to go to church.  Before he went back inside, I said, “Ben, don’t be afraid to pray for people.  God will use you.” 

I had to sit in my car for a while.  When I pray, I say I want God to speak to me and use me to help others.  When it actually happens, I'm scared to obey and then amazed that He actually did something.  On Thursday, I simply wanted Emilia to respect Miss C. and read.  Being a good reader is just a mundane, third grade expectation.  But over a lifetime, it will lead to tons of success and open doors for Emilia.  A grocery store trip is nothing special.  Saying okay to God instead of giving Him excuses matters.  I don’t know what the checker’s relationship with God is, or what she needed from Him, but I trust that God was very intentional in that situation.  I’m glad I said okay this time and I hope I have the willingness to say okay every time in the future.

John 15:14  "You are my friends if you do what I command."

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When You're Yearning For Your Yes

Seattle has a gluten free, vegan bakery called The Flying Apron.  I call it my World of Yes.  Living on a restricted diet means I have to scrutinize menus and ask lots of detailed questions before I can eat something at a restaurant.  The Flying Apron doesn’t use anything that will make me sick, so anything they offer is a yes.  That is a super delightful place to be.

When I went to college, a lot of girls were focused on getting married.  I’d always wanted to get married, but I was awkward around guys and my desire to travel took precedence at the time.  Being in lots of weddings (have you seen the movie “29 Dresses”?) didn’t bother me.  Time passed though.  I had a few relationships, lived in China, paid off school debt, and even got a Masters degree. One of those relationships got very close to marriage.  Weddings weren’t as easy after that. 

Similarly, I was one of those girls who grew up playing with dolls and babysitting.  I liked kids and saw myself being a mom someday, but had never had the internal need for it to happen right away.  I was content to hold a baby and then pass him back to his parents.  A few years ago, I flew out to Washington DC to visit a dear friend with a newborn.  I spent many hours holding her son and absolutely fell in love.  I had turned a corner.  I felt ready to be a mother and knew I’d be sad if it never happened.  Even when I traveled to Uganda, instead of the usual “Auntie”, a couple of the school girls started calling me “Mama”.  My 20-something self would have rejected that name, but my 30-something self savored the sound.  More than that, I received it as hope.  My heart wanted to mother those girls, to nurture what God created in them.  Whether I ever had a natural child or adopted, I knew I was meant to be “Mama”.

Comparison is a slippery slope when your heart knows what it wants.  I never stopped being happy for people who were getting married or having kids. I could separate what God was doing in my life from the paths others were on.  I was grateful and wouldn’t have traded lives or anything.  I just didn’t know if the desires of my heart would ever be answered or if I would eventually reconcile myself to what felt like compromises. 

I showed up to celebrate with beloved friends, but I stopped lining up to catch the bouquet.  Baby showers were kind of weird sometimes.   I always tried to sit by that one other single girl in the room who didn’t want to talk about sore breasts.    I was trying to find the balance between celebrating the yeses in other people’s lives and accepting that those things were “no’s” or “waits” in my own.  I’d get upset with God sometimes, thinking that there was something wrong with me.  One night, I read a Facebook birth announcement of a friend who’d named her child one of my favorite names.  It stung.  I wept bitterly, on my knees, and repeated over and over, “God, please let me be a mama.  Please.”  The tears turned into prayers for myself and a close friend in a similar stage of life.  I texted her: “You and I are going to be mamas someday.  I believe it.”  She wrote back, noting God’s timing with my text.  She had just accepted another baby shower invite and her heart was feeling the ache.

In the last year, a world of yes has opened up in my life.  I don’t know why.  I didn’t suddenly become this amazing, marry-able person that I hadn’t been before.  God just gave me Jeff.  Then, we decided to be open to having a family whenever.  A very short time later, I found out I was pregnant.  It’s so very sweet and good sometimes that I can hardly process it all.  It’s not that my life was bad and now it’s good.  It’s that the deepest, most sacred yearnings are being answered.  Compromise is not any part of the equation.  If anything, I’m getting far more and far better than I asked for.

I want to celebrate.  I want to fully feel this joy and talk about it with others.  But also, I haven’t traveled far from that Brooke who had the no’s in her reality.  I haven’t forgotten those feelings.  People I love  have lost babies.  Or, they are waiting month by month, hoping to be pregnant.  Or, they are sick to death of blind dates and just want to connect with that one person who’ll choose them forever.  No one has to compare themselves to anyone else, but all these feelings are real. 

So, today, I want to say to all who love me:  please join me in celebrating my miraculous yeses.  Please share joy with me, thank God with me....if you can.  I acknowledge that some days, some seasons, you just don’t want to go to a parade.  Parades suck if your heart is hurting.  If it’s more nurturing to your soul to not participate in what’s going on with me, I want you to do that.  I love you and know you love me too.  To those who went before me, this is what was going on with me when I didn’t stand up for your bouquet toss.  There is a season for everything under heaven and I stand with each of you in hope of all the yeses God is bringing to pass.