Hand of God

I have never been a very outwardly religious person. I am rather reserved, especially when it comes to my spirituality. I am a Christian--Methodist to be exact, but have always felt like I should have been Jewish since the Jewish faith seems to make more sense to me than any other religion; some of my family actually is Jewish, so maybe that is where my feelings come from. At any rate, last night I was talking to a friend from church who has a son who is a year older than my oldest daughter. We were talking about how strange teenagers are and then I asked my friend how she dealt (deals) with her son driving and being out on by himself. She said she has never really felt nervous about letting him drive and has always just believed that God would watch over him. I, on the other hand, have this overwhelming fear when I let my daughter drive. I'm not really sure where the fear comes from other than I am letting a sixteen year old operate a large metal machine out on roads where other people who are doing the same thing. I just worry, even though I don't want to. When I was a young driver, I did some silly things and made mistakes and got through everything okay. I know this sounds strange, but as a young driver and even now, I always have the feeling that I am in God's hands. I wear a "hand of Miriam" charm around my neck all the time to remind me that I am in God's hands. As I was leaving the church it occurred to me that I was making a big mistake about my daughter and letting her drive. Why would I assume that God would do anything less for my daughter than He has done for me? Why would I assume that only I am in His hands? What I need to do is trust that God is holding her and protecting her just like He has done for me all these years. I need to stop worrying, and allow God to hold her in His hand. How freeing is that?

An Answered Prayer

So I have been lamenting about this move we made to Virginia. I have had a pretty bad attitude about the whole thing for selfish reasons: my family is all back in Indiana, all my friends are in Indiana, I don't know anyone here. . . Please notice that all of these reasons begin with the word "I". Recently, I have been thinking about how self-centered I have been about this move. Yes, we moved because my husband wanted to; that's what it boiled down to, until something else occurred to me. On three different occasions, from three completely different people, I have heard the same thing: how glad they are that our daughter Gabby has moved here. The first time I heard it was from a mother of a little girl in Gabby's class. They had invited my daughter over to play for the afternoon, and this mother said how excited she was that her daughter wanted to invite a friend over. Her daughter is painfully shy, and the family was dreading this schoolyear. Along comes our little Gabby. New to the school, new to the state of Virginia, and open to everything. She started playing with this little girl, and now they are good little friends.


The second time I heard about our Gabby was from another mother of a little girl who had invited our daughter over to play. She said that her daughter had said how nice Gabby was to everyone, and she was glad they were in the same class. The third time I heard about our daughter was from her teacher. She said that Gabby is friendly and kind to everyone and is a real asset to the class and indeed to the whole school. Well, of course every mother wants to hear how great their kid is. I am very proud that my middle daughter is such a kind and friendly person, but the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that this is something more.

Our daughter is the kind of kid to whom people are drawn. She looks like a chubby, sweet, cherub, has a twinkle in her eye, and has just plain nice personality. Until now, however; I never really looked at her for who she really is. She is someone who truly has a purpose here on earth. She was one of those "00ps" pregnancies that happened while I was on the Pill. We had only planned on having two children. She was a lovely baby and an easy toddler. She was popular in preschool, as well as in first grade. Second grade was a little tougher for her and friends were few and far between for some reason. She took this big move to Virginia in stride. After pondering all the why's about this move, it has become clear to me that the reason we moved may have had something to do with my husband, but it could also have been because a shy, lonely little girl living in Northern Virginia prayed every night for a friend. A friend who could accept her just the way she was. No matter that that little girl would be coming from Indiana! Maybe God is using our daughter in some small way. Maybe our daughter has become the answer to a faraway prayer. I believe that God answers prayers in unexpected ways, and Gabby may be one of those answers.