Letting Go

Yesterday, as I was making phone calls to clients to rearrange my schedule around a sweet little baby I had agreed to keep until the end of August, the baby's grandmother called and casually told me that, because his work schedule had changed, her husband would be keeping the baby from now on. My services were no longer needed. Her cheerful declaration surprised me; was she really unaware of how quickly people fall in love with this baby? Did she not understand that this was more than a job to me? Gracie had stolen my heart long before I ever took this babysitting job.

Although I knew this was a temporary arrangement from the start, I expected to have more time. All of us enjoyed last week immensely when she was with us. Olivia was so good with her, so attentive and loving. And Chris was so good making her laugh. I think my favorite times were taking her with me to Wal Mart. I didn't correct anyone who presumed she was mine. Now, without warning, we are once again without baby.

This is one of those times when I don't understand what God's up to. We believed that keeping the baby for a while would be a great preparation for having a baby of our own. We could get a sense of how a baby changes everything. We could teach Olivia how to be the Big Sister instead of the Little Girl. (She obviously didn't need too much instruction in that area; she's a natural!) We hoped that about the time Gracie found her spot in daycare and left us, I might become pregnant, and then losing her wouldn't be so bad. But I wonder why He only allowed us a week?

In His perfect timing, He had a speaker come to our church yesterday. She spoke on surrendering all to Christ. Ironically, that is the subject of the Sunday school series I've been teaching. Somehow, hearing someone else's story and perspective on this matter was just what I needed. At the conclusion of her message, I was one of the first to find a spot around the open altar where Christ waited. I knelt tearfully at His feet and surrendered all my expectations and plans for my own life. I poured out the desires of my heart and handed them over, trusting His will and His ways. I understood now that my longing to serve Him must be coupled with a willingness to do it HIS way, even if that way seemed to lead me away from my own dreams. I had been reminded of His amazing ability to give me more than I ever asked for if only I would trust Him with my deepest desires.

I am so glad I heard from God before I heard from Gracie's grandma.

Our speaker shared the following story. I had read it before, but in this moment of my life, it touched me deeply. Read it and decide what dream or desire you need to hand over to make room for the bigger blessing.

The Pearl Necklace

The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.

"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please!"

Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face.

"A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.

On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?"

"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you."

"Then give me your pearls."

"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."

"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"

"Daddy, you know I love you."

"Then give me your pearls."

"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my babydoll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."

"That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you." And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.

"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?"

Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver,she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.

He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.

What are you hanging on to?

--- Author Unknown --- Submitted by Karen --- Age 15

                                                                   In His Gentle Love,
                                                                              Amy






copyright 2010, Amy Walace