Edna Blake

That following weekend of this very same week, I was scheduled to attend a Women's Retreat through our church. I emphasize the timing specifically because I can see the wise hand of God who reached in with magnificent timing once again, giving me awareness beyond my understanding. And strength beyond my imagination.

I was on the retreat committee that year. By default, I'd become the liason between our church and our speaker, Edna Blake, because my good friend, Dana, who highly recommended her, was going through some family issues of her own. I'd spoken a number of times to Edna on the phone and began to question Dana's judgement. Listening to this woman on the phone, her voice crackling, her confusion over directions or which church group we were, I thought, what the heck, Dana. This woman is OLD! She's confused! How is she going to be the dynamic person our church needs? What *I* need?!

When I met her at the door of the Mercy center, her arrival a relief given her concerns for driving there (despite the fact that she only lived 10 miles away), her appearance did nothing to help me in my general initial impression of her. Imagine, if you will, a small Dr. Ruth type woman. Bespectacled, hair set, voice small, this little woman couldn't possibly be all that Dana said that she'd be.

Yet this tiny dynamo, speaking in her colorful socks and Birkenstocks, had the power to catch all of us that weekend - no matter if we were in our 20's or 60's, making our eyes weep, in unabashed laughter or aching, shocked awareness, opening our eyes to God's message to each of us - that message being something completely individual to all. Her socks, she explained, were her "I-can-do-anything!" socks; a reminder to herself that God is with us all the time, even if we need some colorful reminder of it -- even to the point of wearing those ridiculous pair of loud socks in front of a large group of expectant Lutheran women. Women waiting to hear the magnanimous word of God from a tiny, old, forgetful being such as herself.

Of course, my ears were open to any message I could glean to help me deal with this tiny - unwanted- child growing within me.... the floodgate of messages were thrust open as she spoke.

She talked about our never knowing God's plan for our lives, but that He really does know the right time for everything. We're all being called to a task, she said, that we rarely feel prepared for - but He uses those weaknesses to keep our eyes set upon Him.

Wow....I'm listening, I thought to myself. Jim and I were lucky for 11 years. 11 years of "pull and pray", essentially. Why now? I did NOT feel at all prepared or ready to have another child; not at this time in my life, not now as chaos in my head exploded around me in early recovery. I allowed myself to wonder though, if I let Edna's message sink in, that maybe I was more prepared than I thought I was. More than I'd ever been in my life.

I was more aware of who I was, what I wanted/needed from others, than ever before in my 41 years. I was involved in three 12-step meetings a week, went to a personal therapist, my husband and I involved in counselling together, and my church ladies were behind me all the way. I had more support than I'd ever had in my life!

Maybe this is the one thing that is completely out of my hands; maybe it's the one way in which God can show me that I have no control; that I just have to sit back and trust my Creator, knowing that He'll take care of me and help me through it all. That the understanding, the strength, the patience will be there if I lean on Him. That I needed something as - impossible in my eyes - to fully ask for His help.

The next day, the message kept hammering home.

Ecclesiastes 11:4 Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.

In Edna's words: If you wait for perfect conditions, you well never get anything done.

I wanted to be further along in recovery, in counselling. I didn't feel ready for this!!

She stressed that the Holy Spirit is our trainer. We needed to be free of busy-ness so that we could listen. When we can do that, a sense of joy, happiness, peace, kindness and *self-control* will develop. God rested. We needed that too.

God didn't choose the perfect, the well prepared, the confident of the Bible to help Him meet his goals. He chose those that were broken, and in that broken-ness, He knew would look to Him for help.

As in a favorite Peder Eide song of mine, "As Is", God didn't choose the confident, perfect, all-knowing to help achieve His missions. He chose "Moses, a stutterer, David, a murderer, Jerahiah, suicidal, lying naked in the street, Lazereth who was *dead*, Sampson, a long haired womanizer, Noah, a drunk, Abraham who was old, Jacob, a liar, Leah who was "second best"... He chooses us As is. Infuses us as His. No excuses, he uses us as is."

Youtube the song. It's wonderful. But bottom line, I'd never feel ready. And that was the point. I'd put my self in His hands so far in recovery, handed everything over to Him. I'd trusted Him to get me this far. Maybe this was that last thing. The one thing that I said I'd NEVER do.

As I'd started into recovery, looking back over my life, how much He'd been there despite my resistance, the pitfalls He'd saved me from, I just knew in my heart that I was being "saved" for something special. Something BIG, I thought.

Yet, as I listened to Edna, I began to wonder. Humble myself. Maybe *this* was it. Motherhood. Maybe this was supposed to make me slow down and realize what a gift, how important *Motherhood* really was. I'd denigraded it ever since they'd gone off to elementary school. Put myself down for not doing something *really important*. Maybe this was the revisit I needed to help me realize what a gift it really was. And how truly special it was to nurture up another of His little souls. How arrogant of me to think that I had bigger dreams in mind than one so significant as that.

I really needed to hand it over to Him, knowing that I didn't have the outcome, but trust that He did. As all things, if He brought me to it, He'd bring me through it -- and show me as He had so far in this short time of recovery, a wonder that I'd not anticipated. Never dreamed of.

I still wasn't completely trusting in Him that I'd be able to carry a disabled child full term. Because of my age, I'd make sure to have any early diagnostic tests done to make sure the child was healthy. I'd schedule an amniocentesis. And take my will back into my own hands at that point if I needed to....

But right now, I could see all signs pointing to this being right. This child being born out of love - a new developing love of seeing each other truthfully - that Jim and I created. That there was no way I could destroy that. No matter my feelings of inadequacy, or fear of painting the same mistakes, that God would surely see me through if I leaned on Him.

And very possibly, a chance for me to revisit motherhood and fully embrace it, knowning how short it lasts, instead of resenting it and wishing it forward. It really didn't have to be the old picture. It would give a reason for Jim to change around his schedule, to offer me more help. To refigure his life so that he would be more of an active part of our family.

And to give my kids the opportunity to see that they weren't the be-all, end-all. That they needed to think beyond themselves. A healthy dose of reality to care for themselves and others around them.

In those terms -- it was exciting. I still didn't want to be SIXTY with a high school graduate, but ah well. Having a graduate at that age would probably keep me young.

It truly was in His hands.

At the end of the retreat, my friend Dana asked if anyone had something special that we'd like to share with the rest of the church the next morning. She challenged any of us to stand in the pulpit the next morning if we wanted to, if we had something we felt we needed to share.

Well sure, I thought. I had a HUGE message to share.

But call me on the phone. I'd even take you out to breakfast - and pay for it as well.

I had lots to say, an amazing message to tell of God's awesome presence in my life, but hell no. I wouldn't give myself over to public speaking, stand in the PULPIT, for God's sake. Me? Did they have any idea that I was a drug addict? Someone that espoused His name, but dragged her fingernails in the sand, yelling, NOOOO don't take me?! Surely I'd disintegrate to ashes in the pulpit.

(Did I have no memory of the messages I'd JUST heard?!)

I went home, only to be "gifted" for one more night. My family, thinking I'd be gone for TWO nights rather than one, went to the lakehouse leaving me alone for a full other night. Only too happy for another night of solitude, I procured a rental movie and some Oriental food, planning to sit back in delightful oblivion, losing myself in some romantic comedy.

Damn it, if I couldn't stop thinking of Dana's challenge.

I kept the movie running though, telling myself, no.... you can't do that. Don't be stupid. You're not a speaker. And in a pulpit?! Pfffft.....I nearly giggled aloud.

I wasn't even following the movie. I couldn't tell you what the plot was about.

OK, dammit. I hear You. I put aside my food, dug out my journal and started jotting some thoughts down. More and more, it poured out of me. I laughed, I cried in memory.

This was good. I knew I had something to say. Something that needed to be said. To be heard. That it might touch a few people. Inspire them as it did me. That my feelings - of inadequacy and self-doubt - would find a familiar tone in many a heart.

Could I, I dared to ask myself? Could I speak in front of all those people? In a pulpit, no less?? As a singer, I'd rather sing it in a solo!! Public speaking was just NOT my thing! And heavens, it might be long, I thought, as I looked back through the pages I'd written. There's nothing I wanted to leave out though. What if the pastors were disappointed that I was going on and on?

With a quiet sense of inner power, I thought, maybe what I had to say was equally as good as what the pastors did.

Finished and satisfied with what I'd written, I set my journal aside saying to myself, decide in the morning. No one has to know that you had this back and forth argument with God tonight. I can keep quiet about it, and no one would be the wiser.

In the morning, I searched for my wildest pair of socks. They were even *toed* - just in case I needed to feel His presence when I couldn't see that reminder.

"I need some time this morning to share," I told our diaconal minister when I arrived in church that morning. "God's telling me I have to do this thing....so here I am."

Here I am Lord. Lead, and I will follow.


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An update on Edna: Our entire church group was so moved by her that weekend, we invited her back a second time the following year. The first time ever we'd engaged the same speaker twice, and in consecutive years! She was the same humble inspiring dynamo. Though my own personal beliefs have grown outwards from hers, I'm still so touched by her inspiration and action in my life. With awed reverance, I give thanks to God for sending her my way - especially at that time in my life when I needed this message so much.