A Question of Preparation

I sit here, rocking this tiny person, giving him comfort. From what, I have no idea. Something has startled him, something has caused him to fear or to hurt. And here I am. I remember my mother rocking me in our worn out recliner. It seemed as though hours would pass before I would be calm. I was, as I remember, a tormented child. I remember crying, I remember frustration over things I couldn't even explain. Just these inexplicable feelings. As I got older, I wondered if I was mentally ill. Writing became, and remains today, an outlet, a catharsis, a way to logically sort through events and emotions in order to -- today -- pray effectively about them.

This morning, my devotions centered around "dangerous" prayers, specifically ones that beg, "Send me." I have prayed those prayers before, and God has always led me more deeply into the fray, more deeply into reliance on Him, and more deeply into relationship with Him. Today's devotional concluded with these two questions:

What did God do for you? How do you think it sets you up for what He wants you to do for Him?

Seconds after I prepared to answer the first question in my journal, in came this distraught little child, begging to be assuaged from who knows what. And as I rocked, I understood: God gave me a mother who taught me compassion. She cradled me for hours on end. She served others she saw as less fortunate. She was kind to animals. She rooted for the underdog -- always. (She taught me to cheer for Army every December 😊 ) She provided hugs and treats even though I could provide no explanation for my distress. God gave her to me. But not just for my benefit...

Question #2. I can't always understand what Mom is thinking or experiencing. I don't always have minutes, let alone hours, penciled into my daily schedule to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego in our crowded little home. I don't always want to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego. This life doesn't look like anything I had planned or even would plan. Sometimes things appear completely irrational and unnecessary -- to me. But so many years ago, God had a plan. He gave me this gentle woman who taught me compassion. Compassion that, by God's grace, I am able to return to her and pass on to others as I implore daily, "Send me."

So, what has God done for you?
How has His goodness on your behalf prepared you for what might happen when you pray, "Send me"?