On Saturday at the convention (yes...the convention...again) Priscilla Shirer relayed a funny story told to her by her little brother while he was foraging through her fridge recently. He was telling her about a time when his daughter (her niece) was two and she'd learned that the refrigerator was a magical food-bearing device.
He said she would walk over to the fridge, point to it with staunch purpose, and simply say, "EAT!" Then, he would walk her over to the table, put her in her booster seat, and go to the fridge to make get her food.
This didn't work for her.
As far as she was concerned, she knew the fridge contained the food, and therefore, that's exactly where she thought she needed to be.
He said she would promptly pitch an absolute fit, squirm her little body out of the booster, under the table, and go back to the fridge where she would again say, "EAT!" And the cycle repeated itself...again and again.
Man, toddlers are rough huh?
Then, tonight in the shower, I was thinking about how people like Priscilla and the rest of the crew at Women of Faith got their positions. I mean, I feel called somehow, but you don't just start at Women of Faith conventions. They must have started somewhere! I know Priscilla's dad is actually in the ministry and Angie Smith married the lead singer of Selah or something. Maybe you just have to know someone. How am I supposed to do this if I don't know how to get there?
And then it hit me: "No, dorky, they aren't there because of some religion nepotism; God put them there."
God placed them in a particular set of circumstances in order for them to fulfill His divine purpose. He put them at the table and then gave them what they needed.
That was Priscilla's point with the story, and it wasn't until I caught myself barging headlong over to the fridge when I needed to be waiting patiently at the table that I felt the full weight of her message.
God has put me exactly where I belong, and as hard as is to wait at the table for what He's going to give me, that's exactly what I need to do.
It's time to finally climb out of my terrible two's and learn a little patience.