This is my story…

The question comes up at times….
Why are you doing this?
I must admit there were times I wondered myself.   Especially in the beginning.   The beginning was hard.   The beginning always is it seems….
A year under my belt and I have learned a lot.  Mainly I have learned this: I am beautifully inept, a delightful mess;  I am often misunderstood and at times misrepresented but I have this great big Daddy God.  From the blue streaks in my hair to my too big thighs, I am a bit of a conundrum but  He loves me immensely and  I am just crazy enough to believe that when He says do it, He means it and still childlike enough to believe that where it matters, He will not let me fail.
It wasn’t always that way.  God had to work hard for me.  Tucked in the mountains of Tennessee, feeling alone and unloved, and because of trauma in my childhood, I learned to fend for myself.  My nose was pierced before it was cute (we are talking the 90’s baby) and I could cuss out a sailor.  I was angry.  I was lost.   And I was determined to need no one. 
During a particular ugly time I vaguely remember my step dad going to church.   I didn’t think much of it at the time.
One day I went to church.  That day changed my life forever.  At the risk of sounded more like a kook then I already do I will say this: God spoke directly to me.   He literally called my name. 
Inexplicably my step dad quit going to church and he certainly was not going to go to the little black church down the road from our house in Sevier County, TN.   Life continued on as it has a tendency to do.   I learned and I grew and I joined the choir.  I still miss singing in that beautiful choir even if, according to them, this silly white girl clapped funny. 
One day, out of the blue I looked out at the crowd from the choir box and there sat my mom and my step dad.   Elder Page leaned back and whispered to me:
“I know that man sitting with your mom”
“You do?”
“Yes.   He came here one day.  During the altar call he came down and asked for prayer for his daughter.  I have been praying for her ever since”
I was that daughter.   This little white girl was sitting behind the man that had prayed for her faithfully and that one day had the privilege of leading her to Christ…singing in the choir in his church, the only black church in Sevierville, TN that I am aware of  in 1995.
All that to say this:
I was adopted by God.  Not because I was beautiful or talented or even slightly attractive but because of His great love.  And because of His great love I am compelled to love.  When I look at these children I see myself, I see my sister and I see Daddy God reaching down to save us.  I remember that He has restored the dignity that was stolen from us and I remember that He gave so much.   How can I say no to His call?   In my weak moments I must admit that there is still a small voice in the very core of who I am crying out “More, God, more of you…” but the whole of me is frightened of what that will cost.   May God cause that small voice to become a deafening roar so that even those who are near may hear it too…may I learn to stop fighting and start dying.
Religion that our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress….James 1:27
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:40
I would love to hear your story.   Leave a comment, link your blog, drop me an email.   Tell me what is amazing about you…