The Grace-gift of Hello
The new student orientation is the last place I want to be.
Fidgeting with nerves, my sixteen-year-old daughter stands beside me. She is the new girl . . . again. Exhausted, I’m just as anxious as my daughter. I know I am absorbing her stress, but I can’t stop myself.
I am worn out with the cyclical starting over that is part of the rhythm of life as a military family. It’s been twenty-two years and too many moves, and somehow the transitions of moving never get easier.
The weight of change presses in as I look into a sea of unfamiliar faces. The din of excited chatter only makes me feel more alone. Folding in on myself, I try to be invisible. I’m losing daunting task of breaking through the barrier of my emotion.
With a forced cheerfulness, I comment, “This looks like it’s going to be a great school.” But inwardly, I pray silently.
Lord, I just can’t do this today. In this moment I’m not brave, and today, meeting people is more than I can handle.
The loudspeaker squawks a static-filled instruction for the students to gather in the auditorium while parents fill out forms. My girl runs her fingers through her hair, twirling the ends. She looks me in the eye and sets her shoulders with a let’s-do-this resolve. She smiles and I know.
In this moment, this slip of a girl is braver than I am.
I’m the mother, the one who is supposed to be strong. The one who is supposed to have it all together. I admire her quiet boldness as she gathers a smile. Hanging back from the crowd of eager parents, I mentally dig in my heels
God, if there’s someone You want me to meet, You’re going to have to bring them to me. Today I don’t have the courage to say hello.
I sit on a wooden bench in the cafeteria. With arms crossed, I hope orientation will end quickly.
Ten minutes later, I hear a voice call my name. A spark of energy begins to ignite my flagging courage. I look up and see Patty, a woman I met at the new church we visited. She approaches with a smile. All of a sudden, the heavy air seems easier to breathe.
Sensing God is at work, I remember my pouty prayer just moments ago.
“I want to introduce you to some friends that also have teenage girls.” Patty brings two women over to my out-of-the-way bench. Kris with the curly red hair and Leigh with the dimple in her cheek both welcome me. I stand as both women say a gracious hello that sets my frazzled nerves at ease.
Hello is the gift of a simple word that meets a life-size need.
Shimmering with kindness, hello lifts heavy hearts.
In my mind, I imagine God chuckling with the laughter of grace for my weary heart. I am standing right in the middle of this truth:
“When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul.” {Psalm 94:19}
A feeble hello is all the bravery I need to step into the possibility of something new. A conversation starts and friendship begins.
“Do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,
Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” {Isaiah 41:10}
God provides strength when I have lost the courage to say hello. Then my anxious heart begins to settle and I am reminded that bravery may come and go at the whim of emotion, but God is the source of my strength.
With this grace-gift of hello, God opens a new door of friendship that I dare to walk through.
God renews my hope with the answer to a prayer, showing me once again that though I am new, I am not alone.
Beautiful!
Beautiful Ginger. As the wife of a retired soldier, I so appreciate your words. Believe it or not, I sometimes miss those moves! Miss meeting fantastic ladies such as yourself. I know we have PWOC in common and lots of friends too!