Encouragers are Heaven Sent

I lived in Milwaukee, St. Louis, Annapolis, Albuquerque and back to Milwaukee before I was seven years old; and I attended three different schools. Being shy, it was hard to make friends. Moving so much also meant losing them. The instability and repeated losses increased my shyness; they became the basis for fears I would have to deal with for many years.

My childhood was brief—an aunt told me my childhood ended when my mother realized she was pregnant again. Her goal was for me to be walking, talking, and out of diapers by the time I was one. However, my brother made an early arrival when I was ten months old. Shortly thereafter, he had surgery for pyloric stenosis as he couldn’t keep formula down. Being a preemie, he required extra attention. I had to grow up.

It’s probably a blessing that I remember very little about those first seven years. I remember starting school, my little red purse, and an ambulance ride—stories for another day. Mostly I remember stories that were repeated over the years, like one of my mother’s favorite stories about my black patent leather shoes, which I kept throwing into the toilet. (We could psychoanalyze that one for hours.) “I stopped that,” my mother would say. “I stood her in the toilet the next time she threw them in. You should have seen her face when her feet were in that cold water.” Laughing, she would end the story with, “She never threw them in again.” She justified her actions because war stamps were hard to get or that she would have to trade gas and food stamps in order to get more shoe stamps. She never considered it abusive, but it does cause me to wonder about other disciplining techniques she used during those early years.

When I was seven years old we moved to Kalamazoo, Michigan. (Yep, there is a Kalamazoo! It’s halfway between Chicago and Detroit.) We filled the rented downstairs of a large white, two-story house, which included a porch for rainy days, a yard to play in and about 100 feet of sidewalk from our house to the corner. (Ours was the second house from the corner; the neighborhood children were in the other direction.)

Across the street was a small white church with a steeple; next door was the parsonage. The Reverend, his wife and their two teenaged daughters quickly came to welcome us. The three of us—now ages seven, six, and four—were to spend many wonderful hours with those teenage girls, our “best ever” babysitters.

Our new “Grandma” next door took us to Vacation Bible School, and we heard about a forever friend called Jesus. Before long, my family was going to church, to Sunday School, to church potlucks and other events. And we lived happily ever after…

Oops! I got carried away! Life isn’t a fairytale. We did not live happily ever after.

Actually, my life became more confusing. It was the beginning of a split life—a life of contradictions. For home life and church life (or when church folks were around) were very different. But I want you to know God was at work surrounding me—a little shy seven year old girl—with His people. Reverend Birkley, his wife and their oldest daughter, Betsy, would become my lifelong friends and encouragers. My “grandma” next door would mother and nurture me for many of her 90+ years.

During those confusing years, I dreamed and wished for my prince in shining armor to ride up on his white horse and save me from the hurts of this world. Your circumstances may be different than mine, but are you still waiting for that prince in shining armor? Are you dreaming and wishing like Disney’s Cinderella?

Now, Cinderella is one of my “favoritest” stories; but I have to tell you, earthly princes grow older, their armor rusts, their gallantry fades, and their horses stumble—too tired to carry the load. Princes turn into grumpy old men. Mostly, they never come at all.

The good news is that we are Children of the King! I didn’t know that when I was seven, but He knew me! And He knows you!

No, at seven I didn’t realize God was surrounding me with encouragers. I had yet to learn that our heartaches, when given to our Heavenly Father, become the heartstrings to the perfect garden of His heart. During the planting and growing seasons, He sends encouragers with fertilizers and water for our souls.

Scripture asks,

Who do you think Paul is, anyway? Or Apollos, for that matter? Servants, both of us—servants who waited on you as you gradually learned to entrust your lives to our mutual Master. We each carried out our servant assignment. I planted the seed, Apollos watered the plants, but God made you grow. It’s not the one who plants or the one who waters who is at the center of this process but God, who makes things grow. Planting and watering are menial servant jobs at minimum wages. What makes them worth doing is the God we are serving.
—1 Corinthians 3:5-8 (The Message, emphasis by the author)

When we are planted firmly in His love garden, we blossom into Sonflowers ablaze with His hope, joy, peace, and love. Yes, what makes it “worth doing is the God we’re serving!”

Next time, we’ll talk more about the encouragers and the discouragers in our lives. Until then think back, look around you. Who are the Sonflowers, the encouragers, in your life?