Devotion 342 - dIfferent

It snuck up on me.

It slipped around the corner and tugged me into its ugly corner.

This thing called comparison.

I had been on two flights the day before, five hours in the air and eight hours in meetings.  The alarm had rung way before dawn and I failed to even look at the same clock when I finally crawled into bed.

Already the next day had begun, but this time I failed to hear the alarm.  I sprang out of bed, threw my walking shoes on and began my walk.

I heard noise across the street.  My pajamas were hiding under my sweatshirt and I hoped my neighbors wouldn’t notice.

 I shot a quick glance out of the corner of my eye.  No, they weren’t looking at me.  I saw a girl sweetly posing for a photo of her first day of school.  My neighbor’s daughter is a cherished friend of my youngest.  For a split second I praised God that this was not our first day of school.  I shuddered at the thought of a short night, late morning and missing a moment similar to what my neighbor was busy capturing.

My baby daughter still had two blissful weeks of summer and I breathed deep and grateful. Grateful for me, but perhaps not for her.  Somehow it seemed easier to not be up at the crack of dawn laying out clothes and packing snacks. 

This is the moment when comparison came calling.  Ava would not be starting school today, she would not be seeing her preschool friends from last year nor her neighborhood chums.  No, she would be going to a new school that starts in September and teaches about Jesus.

It all sounded so grand when I signed her up, but just now, in the weary moments of the morning, it seemed a little hard. She will not know her classmates and they would not know she is often hard to understand.  And part of me wished we were just like everyone else, snapping pictures and walking our pressed and ready children down the street to school.

I turned the corner.  Ahead of me, mamas and their babies were walking to school and behind me, there were even more.  How do these children grow so fast I wondered?  How is it Ava will be going to school five mornings of every week.  It made me tired just thinking of the school year ahead of us.

Just twelve hours before I walked behind another mama and her babies.  We queued up in line to board a flight.  I was blissfully alone in comparison to her with two strollers, two enormous diaper bags and a companion who struggled with her half of the load.  The companion was a much older woman that was seemingly driving her Cadillac stroller for the first time.

I watched how the mama fought to hold their tickets and her cool as she entertained two babies.  I did not envy her.  We both were in the prize position of Group A.  I mentally debated if I wanted a window or an aisle and stole a smiley exchange with one of the babies  We started down the long jet way.

 I was already curious how these monstrous strollers would fold up before we entered the plane.  I quickly realized the older of the two ladies could not handle two babies while the collapsing began so I slowed my pace.  I wasn't sure where I could help, but any mama knows a S.O.S. when she sees one.  

Mama put one baby, car seat and all on the floor and less than five seconds later the first stroller was locked and stowed.  Baby number two and stroller number two, diaper bags number one and two were not as cooperative.  The older friend made the best of the situation.  She grabbed baby one and took off for the plane.  I was not sure this was the best decision.  Mama, stroller, bags and one baby waited behind.  I did something I never thought I could do.  I stood at the entrance of the plane, stopped, turned and said to several dozen people behind me that, “we were going to wait just a minute.”  I immediately whispered to myself wondering what it was that had just come over me. 

I blocked the entrance to the plane with my roll on bag, turned and grabbed everything but baby and mom.  I whispered, “I have done this for four, let me help you.” And I thought mama was going to cry.

I grabbed my roller bag and was absolutely sure every first class passenger regretted I was now double barreled with diaper bags;  I am also confident I maimed more than one.  But, when we finally got to baby number one, I had this crazy feeling of contentment.

The reality is, airplane travel scares me a bit.  I don’t want to set off the alarm in the security x-ray, I don’t want to be noticed or talked to.  I want to fit in, I want to read or sleep and drink my diet soda.  I walked another dozen rows back figuring no other group A’s would mess with me.

I sat and smiled realizing sometimes different is really good.

My baby will go to a different school.  She will meet different friends.  She will have a different teacher, but her Jesus will be the same.

Her Jesus will go with her and He will appoint every moment of her day. 

Comparison is my attempt to be same.  Conviction is my realization I am called to be different.

I was called to make a scene on the outside of the plane. My kids will learn that same in a sin filled, self centered world is simply not our style.

I pray they will be the ones that stand up for the differences.

I love my Beloveds that are peculiar.  I love my husband for the crazy stories he tells my children and the funny voices that create each character.   I love that he makes me laugh way more than I have ever cried.    I love my friends for talking Jesus when other peoples' friends are talking fashion.

I love my children for loving me even though I am not home making cupcakes and scheduling play dates.

I love that my Jesus is cut from the cloth of grace.  He doesn’t want me to be like anyone else but Him.   He doesn’t notice my style, He sees my soul.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.  1 Peter 2:9