OK, so I couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow...
So if you know me, or if you read my other blog CupOfSensibility (also on blogger), you know that I have been consumed with doing something, anything, to help find missing teen, Sierra LaMar. About two weeks after I heard about her disappearance, I felt that God was moving in me to do something for this cause. I didn’t really stop to listen to WHAT I was supposed to be doing, but I decided on my own to join the volunteer search for her. I am a girly girl and hate bugs, dirt, mud, weeds, and wildlife. I also have a messed up body that rebels any time I try to do anything to exert it. I mean, hello, I’ve had two back surgeries, one shoulder surgery, and appendectomy and about 8 or 9 minor foot surgeries. But I decided I had to go. I had been praying for her, but I decided praying wasn’t enough. What was I thinking? Twice I got flaked on and finally a little over a week ago my husband and I went on the search. I wanted to be more in tune with the type of person she was so I read her tweets and read every bit of information I could find about her. I’ve been told I have the gift of empathy, and I agree that I do. But I tend to internalize other people’s pain so much so that it is to my own detriment. Following the search, I ached for her, for what she must be going through, had gone through, what her family and friends were going through. And I decided I must go on another search or many searches until she is found. I checked the news constantly for any word on her. It really became an obsession, but I didn’t see it. I was even a little sad about going to the retreat because it meant not being able to search for her that weekend.
So back to my quiet time at the retreat...
I sat in the warm sun, back against my log cabin, facing magnificent redwood trees, having a stare-down with a squirrel, and watching a lizard come out from under the porch, look up at me, then return back under it, only to do the same thing over and over again many times. I had read Psalm 139 over and over again. Finally, I closed my eyes. In my mind, I asked God what He wanted or needed to say to me. I wasn’t expecting much. But He spoke. He broke my heart and healed it again. All of this within fifteen minutes.
The first thing He told me was, “She is My child and is in My hands. She called out to me and I heard her.” I began to cry. I don’t know what has happened to her, but I realized at that moment that God has it under control. I need to let go. I will still search for her if that opportunity arises, but I don’t need to obsess. She is His. I do believe that she called out to Him. I don’t know the circumstances. I pray she is alive and well and will somehow make her way back to her family. But at least I know that God, her true Father, is with her. One I had my cry, I felt so at peace. It is not for me to bring her home, but for Him. I also felt that He convicted me that prayer is what matters most, not running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Prayer is the first and best resource I have. And maybe I am to show that to others. I tend to use it as a last resort after seeking counsel and trying to make my own way. That has to change.
I thought He was done talking to me at that point. But He wasn’t! A few minutes later, the following verse stuck in my head and repeated over and over...”Be still and know I am God.” I wasn’t sure at that point if it was a verse...I couldn’t remember. I knew it was in a song, though. Later, when I returned to the meeting hall, I was looking at some jewelry that was for sale. What did I find but a bracelet with “Be still and know I am God.” It is from Psalm 46:10. I bought it as a reminder when I am going crazy trying to do too much, and as a reminder of how He spoke to me.
There is so much more to write about...especially other things Debbie Alsdorf shared. But I will leave that for another blog post.
I pray for you all, that you, too, will hear from God as I did. I never in a million years thought it would happen to me, but He does speak. Hallelujah!
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