Ok. So my final day at work just happened.
Leaving pancakes. Leaving coffee. Leaving earl grey. Leaving phone-calls. Leaving presents. And momentarily I am going to need to go and get ready for, wait for it…another Christmas/leaving meal. Part of me is actually like, ‘Peta, just go already…’ 😉
I’m going to apologise now. Because this blog post might be a little brief.
I’m running out of time, and I’m actually (shock horror!) running out of energy. Just a little.
Confession time, me and my housemates have been cramming in our last few nights together by staying up pretty late, drinking tea, chatting and watching a selection of movie classics. Which has been absolutely great (Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood anyone?!) But you have to remember, I am usually always and completely naturally in my bed by 10pm. Double confession time, I also started reading ‘The Princess Bride’ last night (long story, don’t ask. I have a friend who I don’t know whether give heartfelt thanks to for the great recommendation or blame for my slightly insomniac behaviour…), and in typical book-nerd style, got totally sucked into the story and couldn’t put it down until 1am… So, am I tired? Yep. A little. Even my bounds of slightly hyperactive-energy have a limit.
But today’s blog post is not going to be on leaving, or tiredness or being-a-book-nerd. Although all of those things are true.
It is instead going to celebrate the fact that today I brought green boots.
Yep. Green ones.
Check them out…
Ok. It’s a bad photo. But I’ve really got to go and get ready in a minute, and although a picture is neccessary to make the point, boot-selfie shots are clearly not my forte.
I was spending an hour or so this morning with one of my young people as a bit of a farewell, and as she tends to be comically-yet-slightly-less-than-complimentary about my quirky dress sense, I said she could come and help me choose some replacement boots (my favourite pair died a horrible, snow related death last week…) Rewind slightly, anyone who knows me, or reads this blog, will know that I have slightly-weird-clashing-clothes-patterned-dress sense. Fact. In my mind, certain patterns and colours go well together. Fact. In other people’s minds, some of these certain patterns and colours do not. Also fact.
I’m ok about this. But it’s a subject that gets revisited when I take young people out for coffee. Or out in public. Or anywhere.
So… Boot buying.
We walk into the store. The two of us. There are about 128 pairs of boots to choose from. The scene unfolds a little like this.
I pick up pair of boots 1 that I really like.
Me: These are ace. How about them?
YP: They are disgusting. No way.
I pick up pair of boots 2 that I really like.
Me: But these are cool? Don’t you think?
YP: Are you blind? I wouldn’t be seen in public with you wearing them!
I pick up pair of boots 3 that I quite like.
Me: Ok, these are a bit more normal? Do you like these?
YP: (At this point shaking her head quite violently) For goodness sake Peta, they are the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen!! I can’t let you go to Japan and walk around like that!!
Ok, this pattern of conversation went on for about 7 more pairs of boots. The poor guy in the shop was a little amused by the interchange. I admit, I was also pretty amused by the interchange.
Eventually I gave up. I looked at my young person and said, ‘Ok. You choose me my perfect pair of boots.’
And my young person looked at me. She looked around the shop. She walked up and down a few times. She checked out my outfit (knitted patterned jumper, clashing with knitted patterned scarf and gloves combo), and then she reached into the boot display, and picked out… My green boots.
They were perfect actually. Quirky enough that I love them. Comfy enough that I can walk in them. Warm enough that they should see me through winter. And in a clashing kind of way, they even off-set my outfit.
I was stoked. I really was.
And simply, simply, simply (because I really have to go and get ready, like, 10 minutes ago), my thoughts right then in that moment, were how it’s our complete surrender to God that brings our freedom to walk into what He has for us.
Do you get me?
Imagine the metaphor. I go into the shoe-shop with the Lord (you’re really imagining here…), and I am trying to tell him exactly what I want to put on my feet. I want to give Him a list of my favourite colours, my favourite patterns, my favourite types, the heel height. I want to tell Him what I want, when I want it and how it should come to me. That’s what my human nature wants. Because I’m naturally more-than-a-little-bit-proud. I not-so-secretly think I know best.
And sometimes that means I feel frustrated. Because I feel like I keep bringing Him my suggestions and putting in all this hard work and He just keeps gently saying ‘No, that’s not the best fit for you’.
BUT, but, but… He knows best.
I can trust God with my life.
But I need to give Him the authority and the control. To be humble enough to know that I don’t have it all together. He is God and I am not.
And when I throw my hands up and say, ‘Ok God. I would rather let You choose. I would rather Your plan. I would rather Your timings and not mine. I would rather be in obedience to You and not understand right now, than go my own way…’ it’s kind of funny, that sometimes He reaches into the boot shelf and pulls out the very thing I was looking for and didn’t even know it.
And it’s better than we could have imagined. It’s the right fit for us. It’s His place, in His time, in His will, to His far greater understanding.
I can trust God with my life.
We can trust God with our lives.
Every, single, tiny, detail.
And my green boots… They serve as a pretty good-looking reminder of it.