Taken Back

(First, a quick shout out to my sweet hubby, who went back with me to Houston this past weekend, in more ways than one. And in the process, shared his love, encouragement, strength and pizza with me. Oh, and his arm on the flight home, as I squeezed it to death with every bump and rattle of the plane. And also…his leg for me to sleep on, too. And for a few minutes…even his IPOD. Yeah, he is really that cool. :) Thanks, honey.)

At not quite noon on a crisp, fall day in the early 70’s, one very small, but stubborn girl came into the world to a set of very expectant parents. She would grow up to like things that smell good like Italian food and fresh honeysuckle. She would prefer hugs over kisses, be grouchy in the morning, and appreciate a person with a great laugh and honest bones. She would adore music in a way that should be illegal and detest anything that didn’t seem fair. She would spend her elementary years hiding under tables at restaurants, just in case someone might want to talk to her on the way to the salad bar. She was just that shy.

This life, by the way, started in the great, warm city of Houston, Texas. Home to the Rockets and the Astros and very large roaches and one very small, but stubborn girl.

I’ve been taken back, ya’ll.

To places I’ve known and people I love. To silly stories and meaningful moments and familiar feelings from underneath a restaurant table.

I’m 36 years old, friends. But I’m still that same (once) very small, but stubborn girl.

I fight my urges to hide under the table every time God asks me to stand up and deliver His message. I want to crawl under the safety of a covering and become invisible until the clock says it’s been 24 hours. I want to run to a corner somewhere and be alone with myself as I snuggle up to my security blanket of what feels good. I want to say words with my lips but not mean them in my heart and for once, for it to be ok. I want to serve and I want to be safe, all at the same time. But mostly, I just want to be safe.

And that’s when I’m taken back.

To the place of surrender and the urge to obey. To the love and the purpose and the faith and the conviction and the power and the presence of God. To the knowledge that the Christian life has nothing to do with my preferences. To Him before me…courage over comfort….death in place of self.

It’s a familiar story for me.

It’s the story of one Texas-born very small, but stubborn girl who didn’t like attention and was shy enough to hide under a table to prove it.

Of one much older but still stubborn girl who fights her fears every time she gets on an airplane and stands before a crowd and delivers a message to a group of people who are hungry for Truth.

It's about someone who has be taken back to her roots, having nothing really to do with physical location.

It's about a very small, but stubborn girl, who after being taken back -- gets to go home to her very safe and neat little world and start the surrender all over, again.

Back…and back…and back…and back…and back…and back…and back…

And back, again.

P.S. The weekend was incredible. I can't possibly put into words how much God did His thing! I stand amazed. And humbled. And grateful.