Tuesday, February 9, 2010

On marriage and adoption and God talking inside my brain

I have mentioned before on the bloggy that I was one of those girls who had her wedding planned by the time I was twelve years old. Then after college I worked as an event planner so I really had my wedding planned. I knew what caterer I wanted, where I would get my tablecloths, and what my buffet stations would be. All I was missing was the guy in the tux.

I have a little bit of an obsessive personality (who, you, Mis?). So I was very preoccupied with the whole get-married thang. During the Obsessive Years, God gave me some very strong messages that I needed to be still and know that he was God, ie, large and in charge. I can think of three very distinct times that this happened and I shall share one today that I call The Garden Experience.

And I call it that somewhat facetiously because said garden was the backyard of my little house, where I was sunning myself in a bikini, kicking bugs off my legs and waiting for the kitchen timer to tell me it was time to flip over.

I was also reading the bible study Experiencing God, which had a profound impact on my then rather immature spirituality. Something in that book caused me to stop and pray and my prayers turned to what they usually did - "God, I am soooooooo ready to be married, what is the hangup?"

And then I heard God's voice.

Now, my Presbyterian Friends just gasped a little and blinked really hard because many of my Presbyterian Friends (including my Presbyterian Husband) do not like it when people talk about things like Hearing God's Voice and respond by either stammering or rolling their eyes or looking for a paper bag to breathe into. To those peeps, I have this to say: a) I was still Methodist at the time and b) I know what I know. So drop the Institutes and back away slowly.

It was a voice inside my head, but it was not my voice. It was in the brain but not of the brain. It was God (put your head between your knees, sweetie.)

And, like both my parents, God calls me Melissa.

"Melissa," He said. Firmly.

And I said, I mean, what else? I said, "Yes sir?!"

And then He said, "Do you want your marriage to be holy?"

And then I said, "Um, pardon?"

And then He said, "Do you want your marriage to be holy?"

And then I said, "Um, well, yes!"

And then He said, "And what does holy mean?"

And then I said, "What?" (I am being verbatim here. God was patient with me.)

And then He said, "What does 'holy' mean?"

And I said, "It means it belongs to You." Which was a definition I had never really thought of before right then.

And then He said, "Well, if it belongs to me, then don't you think that I am going to take care of it?"

And then I cried. And that was the end of the conversation.

And then I had perfect peace and faith and never worried about getting married ever again.

HA! Let's just say I understand how all those yahoos in the Old Testament could hear straight from the mouth of God one day and be all stressed out the very next. God had to come to me a couple more times, both in very cool ways, to remind me to chillax. It was five more years before He provided the most perfect man in the world for me, just like He said he would.

And this entire adoption process has reminded me of that story more than once.

Part Deaux manana. (I am so trilingual.)


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