My friend Jonathan doesn’t believe in luck. In fact, in college, when we led a cell group together, I remember wishing him luck for some reason. He responded with, “Not good luck. Good providence.” I quickly adopted the phrase, more in jest, or was it?
Providence. “The protective care of God”. Isn’t that beautiful?
I spent the weekend in San Antonio relaxed in the arms of providence.
I take very little in life seriously. As you can probably tell. [For Pete’s sake, I raced myself last week.] But one thing on a short list of “this is super important and don’t you mess with it” is having mentors. I believe strongly that it is difficult, dare I say impossible, to do this life successfully if you don’t have anyone to model after. So I seek them out. I love me some mentors.
Which is one of the main reasons I went to San Antonio. As I’ve mentioned before, Melanie and Sophie have both, with their approval or not, stepped into that role for me. Not as bloggy-mentors, but life mentors. I didn’t see it coming. It just happened. So it was like home to spend the entire weekend with them, spill my beans and my heart, laugh about the nothings of life and Bravo Network, eat Mexican food on the hour every hour, and survive Mel’s driving. Just to be loved for being Annie. Something that is slow to come in Nashville (but coming, don’t you worry).
Last week God asked me to be really brave, really honest, and really vulnerable to my group of mentors. I sent an email, expressing deep things that I had decided were better to let die than speak out loud, and asking them to pray with me about these things.
You have NO IDEA how exposed I felt. Yes, these group of women (17 in all- I know, amazing, right?) were now officially as “in” as it gets with me. [Which is saying a lot being that I’m the human version of a billboard sign when it comes to my feelings and thoughts.] And that list included Mel and Sophie. Women who have discipled me for fifteen years received the same email as these friends from the start of summer.
These women, all of them, stood by me and said “Yes, we’ll pray. Yes, we believe God for you. Yes, your heart is safe with us.”
Since then, two other women have talked with me, Gulley being one of them, and ASKED me if they could pray for me. So not only am I loved by friends I met in June and friends I met in 1991, even Gulley embraces my crazy and we just met on Friday.
Tell me. How does God do that? How does He transcend time and years and allow us to connect? I don’t know the answer. But I’m the recipient of this great providence, and I’m appreciative.
Since I sent the email, peace has reigned supreme in my heart. It was never a place of fear, just a place of doubt. But that place doesn’t just belong to me anymore. I opened the door to that room in my heart, invited all my mentors in, and threw a party. And somehow, having everyone in there makes the place friendly. It used to be a dark room, an empty ballroom, with all the makings of a great party, but none of the light or life. Now. Oh now. The lights are on, the music is pumping, and I’m pretty sure that the celebration is just beginning.
Without these mentors [and you know who you are], I think I would have always walked into this room, sat criss-cross on the floor, in the dark, and despaired over the waste of such beauty. Such detail. There was a deep fear of misuse, of the empty. And unsettled quiet.
But now, with the love and prayers of these women, this place lives. God didn’t ask me to expose my crazy to the world, just to the ones who have already chosen to love me. These women agreed to attend this party, even if it starts too early, I play the wrong music, or forget to order the dessert.[Ok. You’re right. I’d never forget to order dessert.]
When I used to wonder if God knew this room existed, I now know the truth- it has always been under the protective care of God.
This is a post for Brody Harper’s Positive Post Tuesday. Go here to read more.
Obviously, Mama is my Numero Uno Mentor, but I already blogged about that.