There are things in life that I cannot understand why they happen. My mind cannot wrap around some concepts. Such things as children with serious illnesses. If an adult is diagnosed with a life threatening illness, sometimes (not always) the situation can be justified by a lifestyle or genetics and it's more tolerable to see an adult in a life threatening situation than a child with the same illness. The child is innocent... there's nothing justifying the means of the situation. Where's the fairness? In a meeting at work this week we talked about children with terminal illnesses. The statistics show when a terminally ill child is asked what their biggest fear is ~ the number one fear is recorded as "will I be remembered?" I think everyone, no matter the age wants to be known for something.
The summer before eighth grade, my best friend since kindergarten went on vacation to visit her grandparents in Nevada. Two weeks later, her mom and dad came back to box up their house and to place a "for sale" sign in their front yard. What happened to my best friend? Well, they left her at her grandparents in Nevada. There was never a "good-bye." We use to write each other every week. We've seen each other only twice since seventh grade; once in high school and another when I went to Nevada for her wedding in 1997. We call each other about once a year. Right now, I haven't spoken to her since last Christmas. (Okay, get this... literally as I am writing this paragraph ~ Would you believe it? As I was writing this about my friend, she just join facebook and requested me to be her friend!??!? ~ oh, the works of God! and His timing is perfect!)
My two older sisters had already started their adult lives; one with a baby and the other starting her career after college. The next summer, the rest of our family packed up and moved twelve miles out side of town where I chose to attend a smaller high school in another town. I thought it would be easier on the family since I could catch the bus to the next town over rather than having mom drive me to and from school each day. Down deep inside, I was doing it more for myself than mom. So my sister just older than me went to high school in our home town, while I started high school in another. This move was a new start, a new adventure ~ I wanted a new pair of shoes. I wanted to be known for something instead of walking in my sisters' footprints. I think the move did me good. I met new friends and although there were some quiet times, life was looking brighter at home and within me.
I was offered more opportunities at a smaller school than I would have had at a larger school. I wasn't outgoing ~ somewhat shy until you got to know me. Still that way today. But at my previous school and town, I wasn't known as "Suzanne." I was known by teachers, staff and church ministers as "so-in-so's little sister." It was as though I was walking in their footprints; not that it's completely bad, but I was already "marked" characteristically. So many times I heard, "You're the last of the Foust girls." Now, I would never change anything; I love my sisters, my family... and am proud of each of them. But being the youngest and the quietest, I never made a name for myself and I didn't want to pass through school being known as someone else's younger sister. It was as though I was handed a big pair of shoes and was told to wear them.
These shoes were just too big for my feet. They weren't a comfortable fit. I fumbled in them and even fell a few times. I never was quite like my sisters. They each have extrovert personalities and socialize well with others. I'm more of an introvert. But we each have our own talents, our own walk, and our own name. Some how I was told to continue what they had started and as quiet and clumsy as I was, it felt awkward at times. My feet weren't quite big enough to step into their shoes and walk in their footprints they had left behind. I wasn't a popular kid. I had friends, but we weren't the "cool" kids. Still today, I have this reservation that I don't fit into most crowds. I thrive in smaller groups with a few close friends.
One thing I have learned is that each of us wear our own shoes... Shoes that leave our own footprints everywhere we go. Footprints of how we will be remembered after we're gone. Now, I've long given up the idea of having a name for myself and making my own impressive footprints. My footprints are small, my name is not known. In fact, I carry a name that is not mine at all; I carry my daughter's name. When someone calls me "Ms. Holt," something inside me hesitates and I typically tell them to just call me "Suzanne." (At the time of the divorce, I thought it would be easier on Natalie to keep her last name rather than taking my maiden name back.) In fact, these days, my name is not even "Suzanne," since Natalie started school last year, I have become, "Natalie's mom;" and I'm okay with that. :)
For each of us, no matter the name and no matter the shoes ~ old or new, as Paul states in Philippians, the race of life is still the same and the footprints are still there. I just hope the footprints I have left have been graceful as each day, I continue to slip on my own pair of shoes.
Hebrews 10:23, "Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful."
Lord, I ask You to help me walk in the right direction. Keep my path straight so that anyone within the walkway sees it is You who is guiding my feet. I pray that those footprints leave a positive impression. I pray that my journey is a journey in which Natalie can keep up with ~ a journey where she's not walking in my footprint, but side by side with me as we keep You as the primary focus in our walk. Thank you for already giving her feet with beautiful footprints. Thank you for the path in which you have lead us. Thank you for loving me and pursuing me. You are so mighty! You are so awesome! In Jesus' precious, loving name.
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