Setting her list back on the table, I took a closer look at her
art work. Flowers of every variety, color, size, and shape filled the upper
half of her paper. Amongst the flowers were small words of all colors and
thickness, posing the question, “Did you know that you are…” and then in large
bold font, filling two thirds of the page, “WANTED”?” I bit my lower lip as I felt the hot sting of
tears slide down my cheek. This was the break we had been praying for. For
years, literally years, we have been sharing with her, her value, purpose, and
her identity in Christ in hopes that she could accept it, own it, and live it
boldly. She has not been able to open this gift. Fear of embracing something so
incredibly freeing and powerful, and going against all the messages the world
bombards her (and us) is scary. Looking once again at title she had created for
her art piece, I knew that she was processing this very message, that though
she was still in that invisible cage, the door was now open. All she has to do
is walk out.
Humility requires trust. Without trust, we cannot fully know
love. Love is the first gift of grace, the ultimate gift that cost the Lord
everything to give to us. Attached to this gift is a note that reads, “Take it,
apply it, and trust me to make it real. I love you. Jesus” (TrueFaced). The
Lord’s desire is to mature us into who He says we are (not the world) and
release us into the dreams He designed for us before the world even began. It
is a process to accept and trust God’s assessment of who He says we are. I
cannot help but to put this into perspective by pointing out that we are able
to love because He first loved us. We do not need to do anything to receive
such love, such grace. It was given to us as we are, not who we could be or
hope to be.
I said nothing to Meg about her art project. I did not want to influence her creation in
anyway. It sat unfinished the whole next day. She never did add more to it.
Perhaps, when she went back to it, there was fear in moving forward or perhaps
she was content with it as it stood. At any rate, we put the supplies away and
I relished in complete and utter gratitude for the journey she is on and where
I see she is heading. My hope, though not waning, was strengthened in that
single moment.
Several days later, she went to camp for the first time. We
have encouraged camp for years, always receiving a negative, fearful response.
This year, however she approached us,
asking if she could go to camp. I didn’t even look to see how much it cost,
where it was, etc. It did not matter! My daughter was taking a step of great
courage in asking to go to camp where she would not know anyone. I signed her
up immediately, cautioning her that once I pressed the submit button, she had
to go. She said, “Then hit the button already!”
In the preceding weeks leading to camp, I expected her to
change her mind, to become fearful of the unknown, to attempt to get out of
going. She did not. Instead, her excitement grew. It helped that her older
sister, Abigail was also going as a camp counselor. Although the two would not
be together, there was a comfort in knowing if she needed something, her
sister, whom she had great respect and admiration for could be found quickly.
The camp theme was Masquerade, though I did not know that
when she left. Abigail checked in each morning via text just saying, “Hi” and
that she was having a blast. On Sunday morning, the phone rang. It was Abigail.
My heart skipped a beat and immediately, I thought, “Oh no, she shouldn’t be
calling me. Something must have happened”. I answered quickly to hear her
cheerful greeting. I sighed a sigh of relief and told her how much I missed her
and loved her. She interrupted my gushing to tell me about the happenings of
the night before. Their lesson had been about wearing masks, what masks look
like, why people wear them, etc. Abigail shared that the girls in her group,
once back in their tent, started opening up, sharing deep, painful stories.
Abigail, just 18, said, “Mom there is so much pain. The only thing I can do for
these girls is to pray for them”. I sought
out to encourage her, telling her that though it felt overwhelming to hear such
pain and not knowing what to do, what to say, or necessarily how to pray, that
God had equipped her to be there in that moment and that in her weakness, His
power is made perfect. She interrupted me again to say, “Yeah, but mom, that’s
not why I am calling”.
“I’m calling because Meg’s group leader whisked me away from
breakfast this morning to tell me Meg had shared her whole story with the girls
in her group last night. Mom, did you hear me…the whole story”. I could not speak, I could not hardly utter more than
an “uh huh”. The lump in my throat threatened to choke me as I attempted to
breathe deeply through my nose at the complete understanding of what this
meant.
Meg took another step in the healing process, taking off her
mask. Such courage she had to have to share her story, a story she has not
shared---ever. She must have felt safe. She must have trusted the girls she was
with to be so transparent and so quickly---only two days into camp. I immediately
prayed for the leaders, for the girls, for Meg that camp would be a place of grace.
Meg is still at camp, returning tomorrow. I will let her unfold the story in
her own timing, but I cannot tell you how eager I am to hear how the Lord
worked in her life this week and what tools and truths were given to her for
the journey ahead!
Once we remove these mask, seeing ourselves as God sees us,
the son/daughter of the Most High, highly favored, loved beyond measure, not
only completely and unfathomly accepted, but wanted, we can begin to see our Heavenly Father through eyes of
gratitude, worship and live for Him with every fiber of our being, rather than
striving to meet the world’s or even our own unrealistic expectations.
Today, I choose gratitude. I choose to see God’s
sovereignty. I choose to dwell on the Truth!
