Numbers

I am always up for a good stare in your face kind of challenge. One arrived at the tail end of our study last night, and I simply could not resist. The opportunity to brag about God? It's on.

There are some circles that like to play the numbers game. Success is bent on how many walk through the door. I used to be an avid player, that is, until God revealed its shallowness. Through some pretty painful and humbling experiences, God has shown me over and over again that it is not about the numbers.

I can remember meetings that I've prepared, sitting all alone because nobody showed up - not a soul. Talk about wondering if you are hearing from God. Other times I have poured hours in with hopes that the room would be filled with women eager to hear from God, only to find a precious few walk through the door. Disappointment used to linger, but I've done a lot of growing up. God is always faithful to those who answer the call - always. We are not able, in our own human limitations, to bring any kind of magic number together in Jesus' name. God decides. It is our job to go with the flow.

The flow last night? It was a tsunami. I hesitated posting about this, because the miracle this time is in the numbers. There was nothing I did any different - there is no magic formula to explain the phenomenon. After running the same kind of copies and preparing the same kind of coffee, women poured in last night -- seventy of them. I have never seen such a great response. Women are hungry, and the time has come for several to gather. God's appointed time has come.

I continue to hold the number loosely, knowing that God has a tendency to move outside of every kind of box. My main concern are the individuals who have joined us for the journey. That, my friends, is the miracle. Hearts longing to connect with their Creator, women willing to take that next step with God.

Seventy five women for a single study? Forty-five people signed up to be baptized this Sunday? Brothers and sister, Pastor Dave's prediction is finding fruition. Something IS happening. And as God's servants, our place -- is on our face.

School Dance

I made my way into the cafeteria to join the other women. Each held a decoration in one hand, and the uncertainty of letting go in the other. Plastic palm trees and cardboard surfboards brought the Hawaiian theme together. Suddenly the space that normally occupied brown bags and munching bodies held a tropical paradise.

My Matthew - his first school dance. As I worked under the role of construction crew that afternoon, I wondered what things would look like from his perspective. Stepping out of the sixth grade in a couple of weeks meant that he was leaving the nest of childhood and heading toward a different kind of habitat.

I thought about how things like girls might actually become important to him - or maybe not (one could hope). I came to the realization that I will not be the only woman in his life for very much longer. It is a strange concept to think that my baby boy will sprout wings and fly the coop. You've heard it said, "Kids grow up so fast." So true . . . so painfully true.

As I drove away that afternoon, ignoring my desire to be a fly on the wall through a thing called a chaperon, my heart welled with a mix of sadness and pride. In the natural course of things my son was growing up. I felt a sense of joy with the thought of every milestone in his life. His first word, his first step, the first scrape on his knee . . . the list goes on.

I realized that I won't always be the one there to "make it better" when it hurts. The awkwardness of adolescence will tear away at his heart, and there will be days when there is nothing I can do to make it go away.

My role as "Mom" is starting to take a new shape, but the demand for love will not lessen. Moving from Lego's to late nights is going to be an adjustment for this caretaker of babies. As I minister to my man child in the coming months and years, I have a feeling there will be less "hands on" . . . and more "heart on."