We were discussing the context of Nehemiah -- the desecration of Jerusalem, the ruins in piles, the remanent generations removed, the man God burdened with the rebuilding. I prodded further, digging into application, and the difference of zeal verses common leadership. We remarked on the power of passion in leadership, listing those burning with a cause, an ideal, a person, a mission. Names from Abraham Lincoln to Mother Teresa to Martin Luther, all embodying an intensity for their calling, catalyist for change in lives and human history.
Coming closer to home, I paused, remarking on the "normal", the everyday, the people who impact, touch, imprint our own lives, simply in their day to day. The friends, the teachers, the mentors, the neighbors; the significance none too small. The touch of what may be "normal" but to one, but the heart, the hug, the voice, the difference in the day, or eternity.
Then she said softly, "I always think of the mother, the one who packed the bread and the fish in the basket for the boy."
Something in me stopped, inwardly clung to that line in her words. Yes! The seemly minuet act of the love and service of the mother, who one morning, packed two fish and five loaves of bread for her son, folded it in cloth in his basket, and sent him on his way, which would take him to Jesus, to the miracle. That woman, that moment, that service, that love.
I sometimes wrestle these days, with my place, my calling, my gifts and where they are placed and purposed in the hours of the day. For years I dreamed this vision, this life for which I now fully at home. Yet for years I taught, I traveled, I friended, I wrote, I read, I lived in a way that displayed, exhausted, and clarified so many of my other gifts. Sometimes in the quiet of the hours at home, I wonder who I was, who I am, and if the two can ever meet again.
My mom's group leader always says, "You can have it all; you just can't have it all at the same time." And she reminds us of the significance of seasons in life, and the pause and purpose in this season of Home.
Hearing the gentle words about the mother folding the bread in the basket for the boy, for Jesus, for the masses, for God's miracle, was just a little heaven-sent reminder of my place today. Teaching Women's Bible Study, soft friendships, and nurturing life and learning and love in my home is this season. And it is still important; it is still a place of leadership, of gifting, of passion and zeal. Of miracles.
