This story is a glimpse of a chapter in my story, really His story, as told collaboratively by my mom and I.
“Always choose God’s best, Honey. He always wants the best for us.”
This life mantra growing up found its way into dinnertime conversations, birthday cards and long drives to school.
It still does.
Choose God’s best.
Having been raised in a Christian home with my mom since the age of 3, I knew what God’s best was. I knew it was more than simply minding my manners and following the rules.
Choosing God’s best was opening the Word when I hid under the covers scared Darth Vader might come to kidnap me.
Choosing God’s best was asking for forgiveness and learning life lessons on tithing while exchanging starbursts in the car.
Choosing God’s best was holding each other tight, praying until our eyes could no longer stand watch and the cool breeze from the broken window left by an intruder finally died down.
I lived my Christian life in the shadow of my Mom as I saw her choose God’s best, relying on my godly heritage to get me through my days.
She probably won’t describe me as a prodigal daughter.
“She is my precious angel!”
I’ve read the story of the Prodigal Son. I know what coming to the end of yourself looks like.
A prodigal daughter. A sheep prone to wander.
Head buried in my hands, uncontrollable heaps of tears and heavy sobs distorted any words I tried to utter. I couldn’t breathe. Time stood still as the heaviness of sin, disappointment, fear, anxiety bound tightly to my neck.
I couldn’t even look up.
I hadn’t chosen God’s best.
As my mom sat back in the shadows, under the wings of her Savior, she saw my tears from a different perspective. Sitting across the table, she desperately tried to make out what I longed to say.
I had to break this silence. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Glancing at Noel, perhaps they were here to tell us of an engagement.
Noel and Melissa exchanged glances and then she broke out in tears. Tears of shame and sorrow.
Still unable to speak, I looked at Noel and asked him the question that burned in my mind. His answered silenced me as I watched my daughter cry and shake.
This wasn’t an engagement. This was a pregnancy.
In the moment of that realization I had an overwhelming feeling of compassion and mercy that flooded my soul. Getting up from my chair, I hugged my daughter tightly.
“I love you, Melissa. It’s going to be okay.”
How could this be okay? How could I let this happen? All my life I was told to choose God’s best. This couldn’t be God’s best, could it? This isn’t how life was supposed to happen.
“And I love Noel as my son.”
My heart fell to the floor as I flashed back to earlier that evening...
Sweating palmed and feeling a thousand heartbeats a minute, we pulled up the driveway and sat in the uncomfortable moment. Everything inside me didn’t want to walk through the front door of my mom’s house. This isn’t God’s best. Her heart will bleed of disappointment and I can’t bear this guilt. I just can’t.
“Lord, may she love him as her son. She doesn’t even know him well, but please, Lord, may she love him as her son. “
“I’m not disappointed in you, Melissa. I love you.”
I said it with honest conviction. When Melissa was three years old, I dedicated her to the Lord. God entrusted me with her life and I trusted Him. Practically speaking, when I witnessed moments of her straying away, I knew God would bring her back. In His time. In His way.
There is a season in everyone’s life, whether good or what we consider bad, when God gives exactly what is needed to get through. God poured out His tender loving care, longsuffering, mercy and most of all His loving grace so I could give that to my daughter.
I knew God had a plan and He would make things right according to His will. We all make mistakes, as children of God and we are to ask forgiveness, repent and move forward. Life is a continuous growing in Christ.
The growing pains that make us more like Christ.
Leaving my mom’s house that evening, tear stains on my face left imprints of peace and joy. For the very first time, I had been touched by grace and mercy. I drew near to God like never before.
Nine months later, my daughter was born.
Isabella Renee
I wouldn’t come to know the meaning of her name until several years later.
God’s promise reborn.
A promise from the Most High God.
A promise that became God’s best.
My mom conditioned me to know God’s best but it was only my will that could choose His best. Little did we both know, I would have to be a lost sheep to feel my Good Shepherd pick me up and carry me on His shoulders, before I would ever make that choice to follow Him.
REST is a 4-week Bible study series. This week is Rest to Restoration, beginning with Monday's Bible Study.
View an overview of the entire series, Begin Week 1: Rest to Ransom, Begin Week 2: Rest to Reflection or Subscribe now to receive posts via email or rss feeder.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Today's post inspired by Imperfect Prose, a collective of stories written on redemption and grace.
