Twice a week I sit in waiting rooms while our 3 year old daughter participates in social learning experiences: Kindermusik and Ballet class. In spite of Gabe being out of work, we scrape and pinch to pay for these classes because 1. she loves them 2. we don’t want her to grow up to be the awkward, “not the brightest crayon in the box” that her mother is. She loves music and has been drawn to it since infancy. It was only natural that we enroll her in a class that would let her develop musical talent while preparing her with skills she will need in school. When the opportunity came up to enroll in ballet, Daddy hesitated, but Mommy (I) recognized the sheer joy in her face as our girly -girl danced and twirled around our living room. After a little persuasion, we picked up our second class of the week. She’s in love. She can’t wait to get to either class each week and enters and leaves with a melt-your-heart smile.
As I spend roughly an hour and a half each week observing folks in the parent waiting rooms, I find that I seem to be among the “social elite” – doctors, lawyers, etc. I’ve noticed before that all the other parents seem to know one another well and chat easily as we wait for our children. It seems as most of the families have at least 2 or 3 children all enrolled in some type of enrichment class. Originally, I wasn’t too affected. I would sit in the corner of the waiting room grading papers every Thursday while we waited for Kindermusik class to end. One day, I noticed a mother slip out during class and return in time for class to end. I later found out that she was participating in a Weight Watchers class down the hall. I decided if I was going to sit there for 40 minutes a week, I could try to improve myself a little in the process. So I paid my enrollment fee and now, on weeks that I can afford it, I go to the Weight Watchers meeting to pass the time.
Today, as I waited for ballet class to end, I became especially aware of the waiting room company as I sat across from a woman who was a stay at home mom who worked in her husband’s office at her leisure, I overheard her say. She had perfect hair and her perfect figure was very neatly displayed in her nice clothes while her neatly manicured fingers worked her iPhone, Starbucks cup in hand as she waited on her multiple children to finish their classes. . As I sat looking at her in awe and a little envy, I had to take a little self-inventory: there I sat: overweight, barren, with messy hair, shoes all scuffed, trying to hide my shirt stained with the quick dinner of tamales and chili I made before we left . My drink was a bottle of diet coke (that I had hoarded all weekend) in my purse to take to work at my part-time mall job after ballet class. I suddenly wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I even confessed to Gabe that I was not sure I could sit there for 45 minutes each week in such small quarters with these folks. My inadequacies as a parent, wife, and person in general seemed to be screaming at me in that moment. Yet I took a deep breath and knew that I would continue to sit there each week with the people so much better than I for the look of joy on my daughter’s face.
Don’t misunderstand me. I love Starbucks and manicures and would love to always look perfectly put together, but those are extreme luxuries, especially now. I wondered what troubles the woman sitting across from me could possibly have. In the instant that thought crossed my mind, I was deeply convicted. I know nothing of that woman’s life - her home situation, her health, or most importantly her relationship with God. My mind was directed to Psalms 73. A passage my very wise and wonderful dad shared with me not too long ago. I’ve read it before, but it is so much more meaningful to me now.
The chapter begins with the author’s rantings of unfairness – the heathen and foolish have “more than heart could wish” while he is “plagued” and “chastised.” In the cry of envy, the writer is also pricked with conviction [when] “I went into the sanctuary of God.” Just yesterday my heart rejoiced in the sanctuary of my God at His Holiness, Greatness, and continual presence in our lives. Humbly, today, I had to ask God’s forgiveness for my feelings of envy because I have a promise to which I can cling that is greater than any manicure or steaming cup-o-joe. I have a Savior, a Redeemer, an Intercessor, a Comforter whose arms are big enough to stretch out in sacrifice for me, hold me in hurt and weakness, and rock my precious babies that are now in His care. A Conqueror, a Lover of my soul who doesn’t care if my shoes are scuffed or my shirt is stained. He loves me in spite of myself.
“Nevertheless, I am continually with thee: thou has holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever . . . .But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy works.”
Psalms 73:23-28
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