Tailgate Redneck Caviar

When I was young, I had two ambitions – to become a secretary (just like my favorite Aunt Jean) or a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader. Unfortunately, my dreams of wearing white go-go boots fell flat (similar to my chest). However, as I aged, I stopped asking myself, “What do I want to be when I grow up?” and focused on the question ‘God, why am I here?”

Recently, I had a conversation with my older sister, and she said that maybe her goal here on earth was only to be a good wife, a better mother, and work in the service of others. I gave pause and then told her my story.

I have always been a highly anxious person. Part of it is DNA from a long line of Southern women, but there was one traumatic event that put my nerves in overdrive. When I was in kindergarten, a classmate of mine was kidnapped from our schoolyard. At the time, I was an unknowing witness. There was a man handing out dollar bills to the children after school. I really wanted to follow, but my cautiousness told me to stay in the carpool line and wait for my mother. The next day when it was announced by our teacher, I started questioning the safety of everyone I loved. That heightened sense of panic stayed with me for over 40 years. From that point, it became my job to worry. Naturally, when I became a mother, that fear was transferred to my children.

One afternoon while driving to pick my boys up from school, I saw a very small child walking alone on a busy road. I was already late for carpool (which was odd because I was always first in line), but something (or someone) told me to stop the car. The boy, who was carrying a red plastic sand pail, looked way too young to be all alone. I pulled over and cautiously approached and asked if he had walked off a playground nearby. He responded simply with, “Miss Sissy left me.” Confused, I tried different questioning tactics, but the answer was always the same.

I knew there was a fire station close by, so I encouraged him to walk with me there to ask for help, but he refused. I remembered that it was the last day of school for some of the neighboring kids, so I knelt beside him and asked if he wanted me to help find his teacher. With his permission, I reluctantly put him into my car. I knew that this was dangerous, but it was more important to secure his safety than my own.

From the school, I later learned that Miss Sissy was his nanny. He was autistic. It was his last day of kindergarten, and she had picked him up as usual.  At some point, she had gotten angry with him, stopped the car, and left him on the side of the road.  And while the whole incident was surreal at the time, it seems I had been training for it my entire life.

After I left him in caring hands, the most extraordinary thing happened. Even in the midst of chaos, my burdens were released. My anxiety which had been caged inside of me for so long was suddenly set free. I physically felt it empty from inside. It's inexplicable other than I knew, without a doubt, that God chose for me to be a witness and not a victim so many years ago. I finally understood my purpose.

God is a giver. He has the answers, and He has our back. Some things we just can’t do ourselves, but that is exactly how He designed it. All we have to do is trust Him and come to Him. He does the rest. All of those things I worried about worked out, one way or another. My self-imposed worry was causing horrible physical symptoms, and it wasn’t until I took a breath, rested, truly came to Jesus, got quiet, let go of all the details, told God that I trusted Him completely—and then learned to do nothing—that I finally found peace. My prayers became less about my situation and more about my trust in Him.

You are the main character in the story of your life, but other people are the main characters of their own lives. And sometimes you can find healing just by playing a supporting role in someone else's experience. To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see.

In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."God, I am so used to handling things on my own. Yet I am open to your guidance and love, and I know that you have all the answers to life’s questions. As his child, I never discount my presence on earth and the meaning of my life even on the hardest of days. I know God is doing the work here, not me. And with that trust, I am weary no more.