“How can you tell when something is a perfect fit?” I wonder as I
sort through clothes that were littering me and my younger sister’s bedroom
floor.
Most romantic comedies and coming-of-age movies, hapless peers and
well meaning adults say that you can only know after you've tried every other
thing and it "feels right".
There are many problems with this theory, in my humble opinion.
You see, from where I'm standing (Months off from my seventeenth
birthday, unemployed and newly graduated.) Nothing feels right. At best, I feel
small and cold...and lonely. Everything seems so much bigger than me-so impossible!
How do I find a job to work on the weekends? Much less choose a career for the
rest of my life! How do I choose a college, a major, a mate-how do I even know
if I want these things!? I can’t even contain a five year old long enough to
keep our room clean!
I always start out so resolute and sure of myself, "I'm going
to X school in the year 20XX and I'm going to drive X car until I can
afford..." (you get the point) and for the longest time after I make that
choice, I feel really secure in it-no anxiety whatsoever...then things start to
go downhill. I propose this newly minted masterpiece of a plan to my parents
and they pick it apart.
They say: "Well that's a pretty good school-it's kind of
expensive and I hear the kids there are really crazy-you would have to really
focus. X car is cute-does it have all wheel drive? You're a new driver so you
have to make sure it's maneuverable-and keep an eye on that gas
tank."
But I hear: "Well that sounds good, but X school is so
expensive, we’ll have to buy a house just so we can mortgage it and pay off
half your student loans! And it’s quite a lot of work-you could expect to study
a minimum of eighteen hours a day. Also, it's a party school...so you probably
won't be able to focus what with the contact high your roommate's 'glaucoma
medicine' is giving you. And by the way, X car failed every safety test on
keepyourkidwhodrivesalive.com-besides, gas prices are through the roof and you
make negative ten dollars an hour!"
And then I panic. All my peace is gone. How could I have ever
thought I could make it with such idiotic thought processes! I'm not ready, I'm
not ready-NOT READY!
This is the pattern, even with my best plans. Plans that
obviously, with a bit of elbow grease would be pretty hard to flub. I look at
the things my parents did-getting married at 18, raising kids at 14, enrolling
themselves in college and walking miles to get there everyday at 19-and I feel
so inadequate. I feel like they have something that I don't, I pray about it
and I realize that they did-they had faith (and some other really important
things) for the women they were becoming, whether they realized it or not.
For a start I have to cite the indisputable fact that faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.
A brilliant metaphor my Grandmother (a woman who’s been raising children for at
least 34 years and counting.) always uses is that of the acorn. The acorn is
small, there’s nothing special or attractive about it-in fact those who had
never seen one might find the acorn’s appearance odd, and its habit of falling
in showers and littering the shady refuge beneath the oak tree annoying. But that
doesn’t matter, what matters is that within that tiny little acorn getting
stronger everyday is a burgeoning oak tree; a tree that will withstand the generations
through rain, sleet, hell and high water. The acorn goes through so much just
to become! I can’t imagine how painful and frightening it must be to outgrow
your own body, breaking up the protective shell of your own being to become
something that seems so awkward and freakish-a seedling. Or the tumult of
pushing with all your might into chilly, wet soil to take root; let’s not
forget the discomfort and frustration of being an oak that is fully formed but
devoid of the strength and shade and beauty of its mature counterparts, and for
this cause often ridiculed, overlooked, neglected and harshly judged-Oh, the
plight of a young oak.
I’m sure the acorn never feels ready. I’m
sure the seedling finds little comfort. I’m sure the young oak never feels quite right. But none of this-this ebb and flow of emotion
and corresponding insecurity-changes the fact that God made the oak tree with a
purpose in mind; nor does it carry any weight in determining whether or not the
acorn will accomplish that purpose. What matters is the amount of nourishment
and grooming the acorn gets-and even that doesn’t make it an oak, it only determines how far the acorn goes in the
development process, and how healthy the finished product is.
Wait, I can imagine that. I envision it perfectly, it’s so realistic-it’s
my reality. I am a newly sprouted oak, trying to find the strength to push and
thrive and I need to have faith-faith for the oak I’m am, and to let God refine me into the oak I’m becoming.
Ultimately I have to trust the fact that
God created me as an infant with a woman inside. A woman that has appeared in
poignant flashes of childhood pursuits-womanly courage to jump even though I
risked a skinned knee, womanly joy to smile when I was hurting-a woman that
fretted through the seeming paranormal malady of converting my childish form
into the fledgling silhouette of a being I didn’t quite understand and now, a
fully formed woman who must learn to trace the pattern of her own design-and
peel away the final scraps (and in some places, enormous chunks) of that rough
old acorn seed. It is my responsibility as a young oak to cast my cares on the
One who created me and thank him daily for the tree I fell from, to gorge myself
on his provision-the Word-and immerse my spindly branches in the light of his
spirit so that joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,
gentleness and self control will be carved like a mosaic pattern in my bark,
and finally to cut away the stunted vines and withering leaves that I incur
simply from being rooted in the fallen earth. Everything else is up to him.
“Everything” I repeat to myself mentally.
To be frank, for many reasons, this
hurts me. In short I would have to say it’s because of my pride. Like Job, I
question God’s administrative skills, like Moses I’m swift in delivering a
thousand reasons why I’m not qualified, like David I trespass against him and I
don’t even realize it. I can see my actions so clearly that it scares me: I doubt
God’s sovereignty, I rebel against him with the intimation that I, Samantha Reneè can do it oh so much
better. Me, an oak tree-not even a mature oak tree-telling the great I Am how
to do his job!
After this realization, I repent. I want
to hide my face from his but he whispers to me so softly, “Lean not unto your own understanding, Sam”
and he pulls my heart into what I can only describe as a fearsome embrace. “Be still and know that I am God. Can you, by
fretting in the mirror make yourself an inch taller? ” No, I say, defeated
and limp in his arms. “Your Father knows
you have need…cast your cares on me…I’m your caretaker”
I will choose to believe my Father’s
report. I will not give heed to fear of man, or death or anything else because
he has reign over all things in the earth, above the earth and below the earth
and I REFUSE to be tempted by the Enemy-I take captive every prideful, accusing
thought-I don’t need details! I KNOW my Father’s plans for me! Plans to give me
a hope! Plans to give me a future! Plans to wipe every tear from my eye! HE
LEADS ME BESIDE THE STILL WATERS AND UNDER HIS WINGS I TAKE REFUGE!
I don’t need a job (unless he tells me
to get one) He is my provision. I don’t need to go to school until he says I
do-he’s my Teacher. And I don’t need to find a mate, he’s the greatest
match-maker of all time. Or maybe, He'll give me the favor for a full ride to X school, I'll lead my pothead roommate and all her friends to Christ and on the way to Starbucks to meet them I'll run out of gas because X car gets bad mileage and my future mate will be the one to give me a boost to the gas station. I don't know-I don't need to know.
I just need him. I just need faith. I
just need faith in him.
I rightly ask for the wisdom to nourish
and activate that faith.
So I have it. I have everything I need.
Where I’m standing (on his word) and
where I’m living (in his promise) is EXACTLY where I need to be. It’s just-“wait, what if?”
“Be
still and know that I am…” He reminds me before I can finish the thought.
To that I say “God, you’re my refuge. I
trust in you and I’m safe.”
I’m becoming exactly what I need to
become and because this is where God has placed me, sorting clothes on this
floor is exactly where I need to be. Serving him within the walls of this
family structure is the perfect way to mature this young oak.
It’s just the right fit.
Even
though I’m not feelin’ it.
