A New Dawn
I met a woman this week who changed my life. Her name was Dawn. She was assigned to me at the hospital for school, and from the moment I saw her, I knew. She was a sweet woman with dusty gray hair and bright eyes; her joy spoke before her mouth ever did. Her hand firmly grasped a coffee cup that had bumble bees drawn with a Sharpie scattered all over it. She later exclaimed they were because her grans called her Beebee. Upon introduction, she immediately began to let me know that the day would be a good day and whisked me off to dive into the day’s agenda. She was light on her feet, and you would never be able to tell her age by the way she bounced through the floor room to room, silencing alarms, assessing patients without them even knowing, and intervening to give each of them what they needed. Some just enough to ensure their continued stability, others doing life-saving measures. But all of it was done as if it were muscle memory for her.
No effort.
No sweating.
No lag.
Just an expert at what she did.
Remind you of Someone?
Remind you of Him.
As the day continued, so did she. She spoke a mile a minute, teaching, encouraging, and showing me, hand in hand, the skills she had mastered with thirty plus years of experience. I was so grateful. In a season where I was doubting my ability to really be able to care for God’s children to the extent, He’d called me to. In a season where He showed me the state of the body, and it overwhelmed me. In a season where doubt and chaos were crippling my walk. Every time I caught a breath, I was pulled back under the water by the chains placed on me by the enemy. In a season where my Father was calling me healed, set free, held, and loved, but the warfare surrounding me felt like darkness that was consuming every bit of life He had breathed in me. In this season, He placed before me a light, a spark, and she reminded me I was not alone. She reminded me that there was hope. She reminded me that everything was going to be ok. Her spirit genuine and pure, I recognized the Holy Spirit not just through her words but the way she loved every patient God placed in her path, the way she was gentle with me.
The day went on, and because she is only human, I began to see the other side of who she was. She still continued to care for every single one of her patients to the best of her ability, but the quickness and upbeatness of her glide was diminishing. The perkiness and cheeriness that once increased the pitch of her words, tangents about life, and even her smile were fading by the hour.
She was getting tired.
Although her dedication to her work had not faded, and her patients would have never known the difference unless they asked, I could see and feel her. The woes of life began to tap on her shoulder. Taps in the forms of text messages, emails, new orders from doctors, and the ups and downs of her patients’ conditions. All the taps were slowly stealing away her attention from the only thing she wanted to do.
Take care of and heal God’s children.
Do you have any children? Before God made me anything, He made me a mother. I have three beautiful babies. I love each of them for exactly who God created them to be. They are all so very different. Each with their own gifts, personalities, and ways about them. My middle child, Jaylen, has a stutter. For the longest time, we didn’t know because it wasn’t a typical kind of stutter, the one you’re used to seeing on TV. His is a full word stutter. So, he will repeat the word until he’s able to compose the finality of his thought and be able to formulate the words he wants to say. It has developed in me a different kind of patience. He would say “mom” a good seven times before he ever got to the point of his initial need for communicating to me and then would repeat every other word throughout his statement. It was my tap of early motherhood. Through every season and area of life, we encounter different taps. The taps of life’s daily tasks, the taps of disagreements, the taps of everyone’s expectations, the taps of a quarrelsome spouse, the taps of your children’s tantrums, the taps of warfare that just doesn’t want to cease. We all have taps.
Over time, you learn patience and endurance that help you handle the taps. This is built in us by God. It does not mean that in our weakness we don’t grow tired, and sometimes you don’t realize just how tired you are.
Dawn was tired. I recognized that tired.
Our Father began to push me to share more with her so she would feel safe to share with me. So, I did. I made myself vulnerable, so she could be vulnerable, so she could share some of her taps. I helped her feel safe, unjudged. I let her know I didn’t expect perfection from her, because it’s the same grace that He showed me. Slowly, throughout the second half of the day, the conversations became less about work, more about our love for God and life. I was able to see a side of her that was even more beautiful than the one who was put together, professional, and clean. It was the part of her that had loved, that had been loved, that had been hurt, that had caused hurt. It was the side of her that made her human. Not her title, not who others knew her as, it was all of her.
Her testimony. Her story.
Before I knew it, we were both almost crying over how good and faithful God is. She began pouring out to me everything she felt, and I just remained a safe ear, and only spoke when He told me to and what He told me, trying to refrain from my opinions and other thoughts, only listening and being guided by the Holy Spirit. I just wanted her to be safe and calm the storm that was rising in her the same way she had done for me the first half of the day. She poured out her heart, and I held it safely mimicking the behavior of my perfect savior, because when you don’t know what to say or how to respond, do what He would do, what He has done. She let out about 10 years’ worth of taps.
The day slowly came to an end. My instructor came to gather us all up to meet for our post conference, and before I knew it, Dawn had wrapped me up in her arms, with a strong, long, and intentional embrace, and thanked me for the day, and I thanked her. This is what God intended for his children.
Lifting each other, placing each other before ourselves. Serving with no expectation of reciprocation.
Loving each other as Christ loves us.
As I got in my car, I thanked the one who had orchestrated the entire experience. I was so thankful, so VERY thankful. He used this simple, sweet lady to restore something in me that the enemy tried to steal. My hope. My heart. My trust that my Father was with me. He was with her.
He was with his children.
He saw his children.
My anger subsided.
My trust grew.
My peace was restored.
And as my mind slowly stilled, that’s when clarity came.
I remembered my name.
I remember what He said.
And I remembered who I was.
Sometimes life can drag you under the water. You can try and fight your way up, but the water weighs you right back down. Here’s the thing about being underwater. It muffles everything you hear and see. It’s hard to truly know where you are. And depending on how deep out you’ve gone with God, sometimes the only thing you see when you look to your left and your right is the water, and it scares you.
My “deep” is knowing what my future will look like. Everyone is applying for jobs and getting them. All certain and confident in where they are headed, but I’m just waiting on God. The closer to graduation, the more the questions come. Have you applied anywhere? Where do you want to go? When are you going to apply? What do you want? So many questions, all the wrong questions.
I just want God.
Isn’t it enough to just want God?
I just want whatever He wants for me.
I just want to go wherever He wants me to go.
I just want to see clearly where He is so wherever I go, it is with Him.
Turns out, He had already answered, the water was just muffling what I heard. He was calling me by name. With the light I saw from one woman I was able to locate the surface and swim up, until my hand found His. He pulled me up till my head broke through the water, gasping, it felt like my first breath in a really long time. Water dripping from my face, hair clinging to my head, and ears finally clear. I saw the break of Dawn part the sky and water line, and I heard Him now. I heard and remembered. I heard my name.
Remember who you are. Remember who God called you to be. Build with love. Forgive quickly. Trust God. And point everyone back to Him, because ITS ABOUT HIM. Let them see Him in you, because you never know who’s on the verge of drowning from the shackles placed on them by the enemy. Let His glory shine through you. It’s about Jesus Christ the son of God, who came, lived, and died just for you, just for me, just for every person on this planet. He is gentle, He is kind, He is LOVE. He is THE light, THE way, THE truth, and THE life.