The Place Where He Needs Us Most
God used my fourth pregnancy to teach me to say “no.” The scribbles of activities and social opportunities that had once filled my calendar squares with busy comfort suddenly disappeared. For the first time since I’d begun staying home with my children, my life wasn’t jam packed with commitments. Every time I prayed about plugging into a good opportunity, the Lord whispered NO. Under strong conviction from the Holy Spirit, I continued to give His answer even though it felt contrary to my just do it nature.
Confused, I passed on lots of good things and tried to believe that the Lord had something better in mind for my second decade of motherhood. I said no to my woman’s group, no to room mom, no to Sunday School teaching, no to speaking and traveling, no to writing deadlines, no to story time at the library, no to art class, no to the happy juggle that had been my life. And I wondered what I would do with the long hours that stretched ahead as I carried my fourth child to term.
I realized that adding a fourth child to the mix and continuing to juggle my baby-delivering husband’s crazy schedule was going to max my time and energy, but I didn’t yet understand that the baby in my womb would lead me to a “smaller” place of joy; a life hedged by unexpected contentment and peace. While I will forever be grateful for the firm hand of the Spirit that forced me into simplicity four years ago, I will not quickly forget the bumpy road that led me to this simple place where my heart rests. My first steps on this road less taken were laced by confusion and dismay.
I remember clearly the first day I awoke to my new season of nothingness. My blank calendar page nearly glowed in the dark as I checked the adjacent school lunch menu. I dropped my big kids at school and returned home to stash breakfast dishes and start the laundry. By 9 A.M. I felt restless. I’d already played Polly Pockets with my preschooler and had folded the dreaded white load. My friends were all heading out for a morning of Bible study or exercise class, MOPS group or prayer group, and I longed for my old hustle and bustle.
Mid-morning I headed to the park. Lugging a bag of sand toys and cooler of snacks, I staked out a picnic table in the middle of the playground and sat down to soak in the warm September sun. The park was eerily empty that day and I assumed it was because every other mom in town was fulfilling her exciting yes. I pushed my daughter on the swings and had a silent conversation with the One who had nudged me into this unfamiliar place of stillness. I can’t believe you’ve reduced my life to THIS, Lord. …empty parks and empty laundry baskets. I mean, I’m glad my laundry’s folded for the day, but don’t you want me to DO SOMETHING for you? How can I build your kingdom when I’m stuck building sandcastles in the middle of an abandoned playground?
In His perfect wisdom, the Lord was quiet. My only response was the rustle of the color-changing leaves. There is a time for everything under the sun. A for all seasons.
As I looked up from my grumblings, I spotted a woman I had met once over the summer. She pedaled a bike with her preschooler toting behind and waved when she recognized my smile. She passed the park, rode to the corner of the block, and then turned around and returned to the playground. Leaning her bike against the wooden fence, she took her young son’s hand and headed for the swings. Instead, he ran for the sandbox. Hesitantly, she joined me on the edge of the digging frontier. While our preschoolers built cities of sand, this lovely young woman began to share a heart ache that she’d never voiced before. I listened and cried and dug for Kleenexes in my picnic supplies. I sensed the Holy Spirit smiling as His affirmation fluttered through my soul like a warm autumn breeze. Yes. yes. yes.
When the dear mom’s story was finished, she looked at me and said, “I don’t know why I just told you that… I wasn’t even planning to come to the park today…” And for the first time since I’d uttered no to the scheduled life I’d known, I agreed with the Spirit’s cry. Yes, I had been right where God wanted me to be on that blank-calendar-box morning. Yes, I had been invited to further the Kingdom right there in the sandbox. Yes, I had traded something good for a chance at something better. And on that momentous September morning, I began to learn the lesson that I’m still learning today: God hems us in the place where He needs us most.
The boxes on my giant desk calendar don’t loom as white as a pair of new sneakers anymore, and I haven’t lingered at the park for a while. But whether I’m stuck in the carpool line or sitting at the kitchen table with my resident Crayola artists, I still strain to hear the whisper of the Spirit who orchestrates my days. Because I believe that God can do something BIG in my SMALL places if I let Him!
