Trading for Transparency

I know God has chosen this life specifically for me. He has placed certain individuals intentionally in my path to challenge me, to love me, to encourage me. 

 

I know He chose me to be Baker's mommy, and because of that, I am forever grateful and forever changed. Being his mommy, I am privy to receive all of the blessings that promises. This is one of my life's greatest joys.

 

From his birth, I proclaimed, "God is worthy of all of the honor, and all of the glory, and all of the praise." I knew God would use our dream come true to magnify His name. So, I made it my mission to always maintain a sunshine and cupcakes with sprinkles demeanor. Fearful that anything less, would be discrediting God's sovereignty and evidencing a lack of trust in His perfect plan. In all things, I would smile. In all circumstances, I would remain faithful. In all trials, I would exude joy. In my exhaustion, I would feign withitness. In my weakness, I would portray strength.

 

Why do I feel like I have to maintain a facade of perfection and portray that everything is always hunky dory? Yes, most days are as warm, sweet, and syrupy as my Nanmama's decadent peach cobbler. But, some days are tough. Some days are tiring. Some days I fail far more often than I succeed.

 

Why do I choose not to express this? Why do I shy away from transparency and honesty and realness for the standard, "We're fine. I'm fine. Baker's fine. All fine." Yep, we sleep 17 hours a night, have a self loading dishwasher, and our refrigerator refills our empty glass with sweet tea instead of water. Wrong. Way wrong.

 

For some reason, I have convinced myself that for God to receive the glory, I have to give the churchy answers, plaster a smile Bozo the clown would envy, and never falter.

 

I surrender. I give. White flag flying. Soaring high.

 

What would it look like if we chose to live a life out from behind a mask of perfection? What if we shared our struggles? Not complained, but honestly shared. What if we gave others the opportunity to pray for our needs? How immensely could we both be blessed and be a blessing? What if we did these things and let God work in and through us? Our God is big, y'all. Real big. Bigger than the facade of perfection.

 

I dare you. I double dog dare you. Find someone this week, and be real with them. Be transparent. Pray together for your specific needs. And hold each other accountable. Encourage one another. Then watch The Almighty at work.

 

I'll go first. This week, I am overwhelmed. I am physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. I had imagined Thanksgiving break as a euphoric vacation. Brian would leave for work and place Baker in the bed with me where we would lazily wake up together. We would laugh, and talk, and coo, before finally making our way to the kitchen for a real breakfast. Not the kind I opt for on school mornings. A real, sit down breakfast. We would spend the day reading our favorite books, humming along to our favorite songs, dress our house for the Christmas holidays, gush about the food and family we were anxiously awaiting. We would revel in one another's company until Brian got home. Then, our little family of three would take a walk to admire the colorful landscape before settling in for the night.

 

Didn't happen like that at all. As I shared, we wound up in the Emergency Room on Saturday night. Baker was sick the entire week. We saw four different doctors, one radiologist, countless nurses, and three therapists in four days. I sulked. I cried. I was grumpy. I had the world's biggest pity party, but invited no one.

 

Why? Why did I keep this to myself for it to fester and grow? The devil was having a field day with me and I was letting him have his way. Why did I not confide in someone sooner? Let them pray for me, encourage me, share with me?

 

Finally today, I did just that.

 

In my small town, we have angels. Living, breathing, angels. Walking around on the streets. Shopping in the grocery stores. Littering the pews at church. 

 

One is disguised as a school nurse. She is a saint in every sense of the word. She was there for our child birth classes, she was there when I battled mastitis and thrush and was ready to cut those things right off my body, she was there for Baker's diagnosis, and first fingernail trim (I was scared to death to cut those baby nails). And today she was there for my meltdown. God chose her first to walk this path, to parent a special needs child. I am thankful for that. Today, this sweet angel cried with me, prayed for me, encouraged me, challenged me, loved me.

 

Let someone do that for you this week. Do that for someone this week. If you don't have someone who will pray for you, email me (jennifer.bell@live.com). I would cherish the opportunity to share in your trials and rejoice in answered prayers.