Six Months

Almost exactly 10 years ago, I had an experiencing that forever changed my life.

At the time, we lived in small town on the New England seacoast. I loved living in there, and our little family had a very nice life. Doug worked for the largest telecommunications company in the nation and earned a generous salary that allowed me to comfortably stay at home and volunteer at our daughter's school. I was ambitious to make a place for myself amongst the PTA moms, and by Hannah's 5th grade year I had become a valuable volunteer, and they made me Co-President. I was at the heighth of my glory. I loved running the show and being a big fish in that tiny pond. It's amazing how much value we put on things that are so worthless, but I did. It was all about me. I said it was all about the kids, especially my own, and I thought I was telling the truth, but I was a liar, lying most of all to myself.

In the winter of Hannah's 5th grade year, another PTA mom invited me to join a Bible study she attended. Our church did not have a women's Bible study, and I knew my spiritual life was being neglected, plus, I felt ashamed to not go. It was once a week, and it was one of the hardest commitments I ever made. Each time I walked into that church, I felt such guilt. It was as if I was walking through the hallway naked. I cannot think of another time in my life I have ever felt so uncomfortable. You would think I would have recognized this evidence of my sinful heart, but I was just that deceived. I was just that given over to my vain and selfish pursuits. I wanted to so much to stop attending those Bible studies, but my pride kept me there. I didn't want my friend to think I was ungodly.

As I write this now, I am truly seeing how the Enemy had gotten a hold of my heart. I had such noble, sincere, and selfless motives when it had all begun, but I was investing my talents and energy into something that was corrupt at its core. Why was I expecting a secular organization, fueled b y greed, to do what was right for the children? Why was I asking them to have integrity? Why was I trying to make them see the injustice of their priorities? And, why was I giving endless hours of my time to help everyone elses children, while my own daughter was left at home so many nights while I went to my "important" civic meetings? My heart is crushed under the weight of my shame.

Yet, despite the fact the Holy Spirit was so faithful to shine the light of truth on that situation, I just kept pressing on. "I'll just write one more editorial."  "I'll just come up with an even better fund-raiser."  "I'll just ask for one more meeting." It doesn't matter what we were trying to do. As I said, my motives were good, and there was just enough success from one month to the next to keep me thinking it was all worth it.

Then, something happened. Something very unexpected, that took me totally by surprise.

It was April. As I sat in a circle with the other nice ladies in that Bible study, Bibles and folders in our lap, the leader of the group asked a question that hadn't been in our study notes. She asked us to just say the first thing that came to mind, without analyzing it. You know how we tend to do that sometimes?

Now, before I share her question, I want to ask you to do the same. Don't analyze the question. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her question was: "What would you do, if you knew for sure that Jesus Christ was coming (the Rapture of the church) in six months?"

My answer shocked me: "I would support my husband's ministry."

What?! I couldn't believe what I was hearing myself say, but I knew any other answer would be a bold face lie. Yet, didn't I already support him? Hadn't I encouraged him in everything he did for the Lord? And, after all, he wasn't even called to full-time ministry. He was just a church volunteer, playing his instrument, leading worship. How did I not support him? Quick as a flash, my head played back the countless times in recent years that he'd given time to a PTA event, or stayed home with Hannah so that I could go to a meeting. I thought of the many, many times he was the only father present. But, wasn't he just very supportive? And, was it wrong for me to work for the children? Wasn't that all good?

I hate to say this, but I just didn't get it. I prayed a prayer of some description before the Bible study finished, committing myself, asking for help, blah, blah, blah. Then, I went home and went back to work.

June came. The Bible study had ended for the summer, and 5th grade was coming to an end. Hannah would soon be promoted to the junior high. PTA elections were held, and I was asked to continue my work. They unanimously voted to continue my reign, and I made sure there would be no more co-. I had been saddled with a a dead weight co-president long enough. I wanted the title I deserved. It's true. I was really that wicked, that puffed-up. I was shameless. Yet, I was good at my job. If I had asked to be called PTA Queen, they would have probably agreed. Any mom willing to work as hard as I did? It was disgusting how much I worked, and disgusting how wicked I'd become, but I kept telling myself I was doing a good thing. And, everyone else kept telling me that, too. It was a bizarre power play. My "friends" would say how nice it would be if this happened, or that happened, and I'd say, "Let's do it!" They knew I could make it happen, so they used me to get what they wanted for their kids. I was dumb enough to believe it was important.

So, at the beginning of June my big production, the Volunteer Appreciation Banquet, was coming together beautifully. I'd done all the Teacher Appreciation Week gifts myself, and did the Volunteer Appreciation gifts myself, too. Food was arranged. Beautiful invitations had been designed by yours truly, and each was mailed in an envelope I'd addressed myself. The big event was just days away. I essentially had my crown on order for the coming year at the junior high. It had been the best year anyone could ever recall. The Superintendent and School Board respected me. Teachers appreciated me. Parents depended on me.

And, then it happened.

I woke up one lovely, warm, and sunny day, and couldn't speak. I could barely swallow. I had an extreme case of strep throat. I went to bed perfectly well, and woke-up sicker than I could ever remember ever being before. I hadn't been exposed to strep, and no one I knew could think of anyone they knew with strep - it's not a common disease in June. Yet, I was sick. In bed. Speechless. Powerless. All alone.

I knew almost instantly that this was an act of God.

For almost two weeks I sat in bed, silent. I couldn't even whisper. I had to turn everything over to my co-president. She'd call with questions, and I'd write the answers down for Doug to tell her for me. I couldn't believe what was happening. And, I was not just speechless, I was sick. I had no strength, no will to get out of bed. The big event, the pièce de résistance  I'd been planning for over a year, would go on without me.

But, during that silence God finally got me to stop and listen. And, He spoke one simple thing to me.


To Be Continued...