Fruit Inspection

Every spring, around Mother’s Day, the Women’s Ministry at our church holds a Ladies Tea. We set fancy tables, dress up, and have the men serve us dinner. Imagine a grown up Tea Party with an inspirational message at the end.

I knew that the Tea was coming up, but wasn’t planning to attend. Then my sweet friend Kerrie invited me to sit at her table. She bought both my mom and myself a ticket. The event was being held on Thursday evening.

On Wednesday and Thursday of last week I was working with our insurance company sorting through the contents of our house. It was blazing hot both days. There is no electricity and no running water out there. Basically I stood around saying “yes, let’s try to save it, or let’s trash it”, while they made an inventory of each item and packed the keepers in boxes.

By Thursday afternoon I wanted nothing more than a cold shower and an early bedtime. I was tired and sorta sad. I rushed home to grab my kids from a sitter and cleaned up as quickly as I could. There was not a bone in my body that wanted to go to the Ladies Tea. But I have enough of a guilt complex that I couldn’t say no because Kerrie had paid for the tickets. I had to go.

Once I got there, my mood improved. The food and company were wonderful. But nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.

The woman who spoke to us that night was an interior designer from Atlanta. I don’t think she had even been to our neck of the woods since she kept pronouncing the name of our town incorrectly, but she was so adorable that nobody seemed to mind. The topic of her message was “Dreams” or more specifically reclaiming lost dreams.

It wasn’t too far into her message when she introduced us to the friend that had been sitting next to her all night. She explained that she had been watching her dear friend on the long road of restoration for almost a year. Last spring, she lost everything in a house fire.

Yes, I believe my mouth did fall open at that point. During the course of the entire message, the speaker made constant references to her friends’ fire, sharing details that were eerily similar to mine. Each time I felt the lump in my throat getting bigger and bigger.

You see, I really have not cried over the loss of our home. I’ve gotten emotional when thinking about all the “what if’s…”, but haven’t shed one tear over the “what is”. And to be honest, I’ve felt a little wierd about that.

As much as I was enjoying the message, I couldn’t wait for the night to be over so I could go introduce myself to that woman. Before I could even get to her, one of the pastors at our church grabbed me by the arm and said, “Jodi, you have to meet her.”

“I know!”, I said.

So he took me to her and I could barely talk. There was so much I wanted to say, but I kept crying and crying. Then the lady who spoke came up, and a friend of mine told her my story. She grabbed me and hugged me and I cried some more!

After I got home, the tears continued to fall. I remember looking at the clock at midnight, still sniffling, when it hit me. I still wasn’t upset about the house. I was absolutely, overwhelming experiencing the presence of God. Ever since the fire I’ve been clinging to verses. Psalm 46:10 and Romans 8:28 are my favorites. I have enough faith and head knowledge to press on and believe that all this for a greater purpose. But Thursday night, God showed me just how much He loves me and cares about my situation.

I can honestly say that I have never felt so loved in all my life. I have a very loving husband, loving kids, and a loving family. But nothing comes close to what I experienced that night. Incredible!

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