DebraBee

What’s your superstition?

Is Friday the thirteenth a scary day for you? Are you tossing salt over your shoulder? Has a broken mirror put fear in your heart? Will you drive on if a black cat crosses your path? I have heard these and many other such tales throughout my life but never has anyone been able to validate them for the reasons why.

Stevie Wonder wrote a song that has some sage wisdom….”when you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer”. How many people give power to their superstitions?

Pro 4:7 Wisdom is the principal thing; Therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding

Waiting to cross the street, I saw her sitting on a bench outside of the coffee place we were headed for. I was semi-listening to my friends, but mostly I was watching this young woman. Her face bore a sadness of life. When the light became green I began walking toward her, not taking my eyes off of her face. She didn’t see me; all she seemed to be looking at was some internal pain I couldn’t discern. Before I entered the coffee place I asked her if she was okay. She gave me a quick answer but then showed me her friend “Julie”, who was a small green ball she held for comfort.

Having our coffee, my friends and I passed this woman again. We initially didn’t have any conversation beyond some friendly words and started to walk back to our car. Within minutes it became apparent all of us we were to go back to this woman and really talk to her.

Mary Lee was eager to share her details with us. She had so much to share I couldn’t keep up with the flow of all she poured out. She was quick to want to show us her identification as well. While she talked I was trying to hear the deeper matters of her heart.

She did not know who her father was. She’d been moved in and out of foster homes. She’d been hurt by some people somewhere in a church. She had been seriously injured in a hit and run accident where the car had dragged her for about fifty feet. Mostly she just felt people had been mean to her and made her feel unwanted and unloved. Mary Lee had a child’s heart to want so much. Her intellect was apparent, but hidden in the demeanor of a simple mind.

Looking at my friend’s faces I could see the same compassion I was feeling myself. We spoke to Mary Lee of hope and love. She mentioned how someone had called her “sunshine” at one point and clearly she was. This precious daughter of God would soon wake up to who she was. She’d have a family who loved her and she’d know the truth of the life she was meant to live.

As we readied to leave, Mary Lee kissed us upon our cheeks. A more thoughtful gift I have rarely received. Her face was no longer wearing the sadness of life but it shone with the hope above all hope. Her smile was “sunshine”.

“I myself am best when least in company” written by Shakespeare centuries ago. He knew the language of love so well his stories continue to be told over and over. This particular quote was how the lovesick poet Orsino preferred to be alone.

I relate to that desire in ways I am unable to verbally communicate. It’s an experiential draw of the heart. It’s not a desire to coddle sadness, but rather a need to know love in a deeper way. Jean-Jacques Rousseau adds “I only love those enjoyments which belong to no one but the first man who knows how to enjoy them.”

I did not seek to be lovesick, it came upon me unexpectedly. I will swim in its wake until delivered by the one I love.

Psalm 91:14 Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My name.

I start to float away from the earth and wish to go higher still. My thoughts become so eternal it’s hard to focus on the now. Just as I think I will break free from the atmosphere’s gravity, I can feel a tether pull tight under my ribs. Looking down, I see I can undo this tether just by pulling on the simple slipknot of my thoughts. I lay my hand upon the knot and wait.

Eze 43:5 The Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court; and behold, the glory of the LORD filled the temple.

Momentarily I wanted to fall back on comfortable territory and talk to those I knew better but instead, I asked specific questions of my new friend. His tale quickly left my heart in tatters. Holding tears in check as best I could, I felt awe for this man I had only met hours before.

I tried not to look away. Letting someone stare deep into my eyes always felt like they were looking directly into my soul. This moment was no different. Joey wore glasses but his gray eyes never left mine and he’d make gestures to point his hands toward me in excitement as he’d listen for new things to share.

When his tongue was released to speak, I was stunned. He began to share the hopes of those secret things no one but my Father knew. Encouragement flooded the chambers of my heart. His words were indeed honey to my senses.

Psa 119:103  How sweet are Your words to my taste, Sweeter than honey to my mouth!

He doesn’t look like me

He doesn’t talk like me

He doesn’t act like me

Who is he?

Then I hear my Father

“He’s my son”

He asks me what he can do for me a lot. It can be such a knife to my heart because I understand he loves me that much. It causes me to look within myself to ask, do I love the same? To prefer others more than myself? To want to serve them at the cost of my own desires?

The knife cuts deeply. Surgically working to remove the hardness, so new soft tissue can grow. My heart aches in deep places.

Eze 36:26 I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.

“He who gives to the poor will not lack” I read it but I want to understand it well. What is lack? I live in one of the richest countries in the world and have more than probably 80% of the poorest populations. My eyes look around me however and the comparison is what blinds my sight. If I can only see myself as I stand next to my neighbors than my vision is skewed.

I must look to my heavenly Father. He alone will clear my vision to see the truth. I lack nothing I need. I have a husband, I have friends and family who love me, I have a home, I have food, I have health, I have clothing and these are all good for what I need in the natural. It’s not the natural that matters much though.

When I look at Abba Father, I realize I have the greater things. I have love, I have hope, I have peace, I have joy and I have a desire for more of these supernatural treasures. I can help feed and clothe the poor to the best of my ability but that will only take them into another day of survival.

The best gifts to offer those who are truly poor would be love, hope, peace, joy and a hunger for more of the same. Food and clothing are but a doorway into the house of my Father. Offering them what I have to share in these supernatural treasures will point them towards eternity.

I went into the office to close down my computer. Raised voices bled in through my open window. I ignored them for a bit, but a tug of heart wouldn’t let me be. Putting on an old shirt, I went to poke my sleeping husband. It seemed reasonable to have him know where I’d be if I didn’t come to bed in a couple hours.

I met them at the curb. Five kids of random ages. Each of them seemed to come from various disappointments of life. When I entered their circle they looked at me for what I was to them, out of place. Within a few minutes, I had a download for a language I had never spoke before, but my heart did. It was their street lingo.

I learned they had rage for a girl who was dating a guy none of them liked. It was some twisted matter of honor. As I stood in their circle, they seemed to tolerate me being there, even humoring me to explain their code of honor. I listened as best I could about some intolerance for this girl who shouldn’t get to sit in the guy’s car. None of them seemed to know why beyond the reason of it being a dishonor in their own mind.

I could not have been more out of my element but still, I was standing on this curb with these “cool” ones. I stopped thinking about who I was, and concentrated on who I heard them to be. I asked them over and again about their own names. I didn’t fully understand why this was important but I obeyed my heart to keep talking to them about their names.

Within a matter of minutes something changed in them. The rage seemed to fall away and laughter came. One of the girls said, “I get what you’re saying, we are important so why should we let her bother us so much!”

From that point on the kids thanked me for coming to just hang with them and being cool about it. The hour was close to midnight and I wondered about their parents even knowing they were playing in the streets this late, but I kept the question to myself. Leaving them I went back into my home. They were precious to my heavenly Father. I thanked Him for the privilege to again pull me out of my comfort zone. I prayed for them and for their futures and thought again about their number….five….grace.