The Beautiful Hand of God

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. From the time before Adam and Eve, the time in those early first few days when God began the creation, He knew there was a spot for me on this earth. He knew that there was a path, and a plan, and that He was going to walk me through that path and plan, step by step, one foot in front of the other. He knew that there would be days when I wouldn’t be able to walk the path, and that He would have to gift me family and friends to bolster me up and walk the path with me. He knew that there would be days where He would have to carry me, sobbing and a wreck on His shoulder. He knew there would be days where I would turn my back to Him, not even acknowledging that He was there, not even wanting to turn to Him because of anger and hate and frustration.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. He gifted me with a family who loved me and raised me right. Taught me to love, honor, and respect others. Taught me resilience that I would need for the road ahead. Taught me to love deeply and fiercely. Taught me that safe havens do exist. Gifted me with the sister that He knew I would need throughout my life, in childhood and into adulthood also. Gifted me to live in a great town in a great state. A wonderful home on a farm smack dab in the middle of all of my relatives. A place that I could run through the pasture and not worry about where I was playing. A place with animals and chickens and gardens. A place where I could sink my bare toes into the rich soil and wiggle them as I ran through the rows of corn and green beans. A place where I could run down to the pond to see the baby ducks. A place where my childhood pet was our cow, Sally. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I was placed in a German-language preschool where I learned about where my father’s roots were. I learned to love the harsh sounds of the language. I learned about German culture and German food. Lessons I still remember and cherish to this day. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I was placed at Woodlands Elementary school, where the boy on the playground pulled my panties down as I was crossing the monkey bars in my first week there. Everyone laughed and pointed and stared. It still brings stinging tears to my eyes as I think about how embarrassed I was. I walked home that day, not wanting to tell my mom, but I burst into tears as soon as I saw her. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe because after that incident, my mom pulled me out of Woodlands and we went and toured Peace Lutheran School. They were

so nice, and so welcoming. I still remember Mr. Lynch running to the playground to lift me gently off of the bar that I was stuck on while he talked to my mom. And I still remember the sound of Mrs. Lynch’s laugh. How she invited the pastor to bring his German Shepherd in to visit our classroom some days. And how much I loved going to school there. How God placed another teacher, Mrs. Jones, on the playground at the same time we had recess. And how Mrs. Jones would love on me and hug me and tell me how much I would love church. And that I should tell my parents to bring me to church. So I would go home and tell my parents that we needed to go to church. And eventually, we did. And we are still members at that church. I got the best education I could have at Peace. I left 8th grade at Peace doing high school level work and it helped propel me to greatness throughout high school and beyond. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Junior High for one year at Fairview was a terrifying experience for a girl who had been in a class of 8 for her entire elementary career. But that first day, I read my schedule wrong and accidentally ended up in the locker room thinking it was time for P.E. When I asked Ms. Morey, the P.E. teacher about it, she asked me if I was trying out for volleyball. I had played at Peace and wanted to try out, but didn’t know that tryouts were that afternoon. If I hadn’t talked to her I might have missed them. I made the team, and I found a ready-made group of friends to help me with that transition to a big school. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. As I started high school, I knew that I wanted to be a doctor. So, I studied hard, took a lot of science classes, volunteered at the hospital, and chatted often with Dr. Reimer, my pediatrician. I knew that I needed to work hard to get into college and have good grades for scholarships. Each semester, I was placed into classes with the best teachers, and the best students. I walked through each year of my high school career with confidence, and pride, knowing that medical school is eventually where I was going to land. I graduated 7th in my class of 410 with a 3.998 GPA and high SAT scores. Olympic High School and the teachers in that building helped me grow up and they prepared me for college. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. As graduation from high school was approaching and I was figuring out where I was going to continue my education, I had it narrowed down to two choices. My first choice was the University of Puget Sound. It was a small school close to home. It had a pre-med program and we excitedly scheduled a tour. As we were walking on the tour, the guide asked about my grades and my SAT scores. I proudly shared with him what they were. We walked back to the admissions office and sat down, where he informed me that my grades and SAT scores were not high enough to qualify for any scholarships through them. I was crushed. My parents and I could not afford private school tuition. I cried almost the whole way home, and felt devastated as I knew that I would be going to my second-choice school, the University of Washington. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Once I started school at UW, it was amazing! I loved it! I loved the campus. I loved the dorms. I loved my classes. I loved that I was a quick bus ride from downtown. I was still close enough to home that I went home on the weekends and still had my independence during the week. I was registered for all of the pre-med classes and had my plan worked out through my senior year and medical school. Three quarters of calculus. Three quarters of physics. Three quarters of biology. And six quarters of chemistry. All the other classes and requirements that I needed mixed in at their appropriate times. I was doing well, working through the sciences. I was volunteering a ton of hours at UW Medical Center and sitting with young cancer patients at Children’s Hospital. I would take my books and sit in their rooms with them and study while they slept, and their parents got some time away to do things. I played video games and laughed and cried with them. I watched kids come and some kids go home. Some kids didn’t get to go home. And then I realized that I wanted to be a pediatric oncologist. I wanted to help these kids. I threw myself even more into my studies so that there would be no doubt that I would get into medical school. This was my passion. My drive. My heart soared when I walked through the doors to the area hospitals. I knew I belonged there. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. At the end of winter quarter of my sophomore year, instead of studying for my organic chemistry final, I went to a party. I didn’t really want to, but my friend asked me to go with her, so I did. By the end of the evening, I was walking alone across campus with a bloodied head, bruised hands, tears streaming down my face, and the memories of my very own rape story that I never wanted to have coursing through my brain. I went home and showered forever, got dressed, and walked back across campus to start my third quarter organic chemistry final. I took it, with a head injury, searing pain in my skull, tears welling in my eyes, and the vivid memories of what had just happened the night before. One week later, I checked the wall to see my score. I failed the exam. I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t even really remember going to take the exam. Ashamed and not sure what to tell my parents, I made up a story about how I cheated on the exam and they gave me an F as my punishment for cheating. I couldn’t bear to let my mom know how irresponsible I had been. I was hurt and traumatized and buried it all so I would never have to think about it again. No one had to know. I was safe. I had survived. Everything was fine. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. The failure of that assessment knocked me out of the running for medical school in my mind. There was no way that I was going to get into med school with that grade in chemistry. So, with tears streaming down my face, I took the list of the major programs at the University of Washington determined to find where I was now going to fit into this world. With a pen I slowly crossed out the ones that I had no interest in, the ones that sounded stupid, the ones that I’d never get a job with. The only major that was left on my list was speech and hearing sciences. I walked down to Eagleson Hall and went and spoke to the admissions guy. I picked up a major application and filled it out. I was accepted and began my course to earn my Bachelor of Science degree in Speech and Hearing Sciences. I loved my classes and my professors and I felt like I had found what I was supposed to be. I had always wanted to be a teacher when I was younger and a doctor in my teenage years. This career seemed to be the best of both worlds. I could diagnose my patients and my students with speech and language disorders and do the teaching part too during therapy sessions. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Knowing that I needed a graduate degree to be a speech therapist, I applied to seven graduate schools, hoping I would get into one. The competitive field of speech therapy meant lots of applicants for very few spots. I turned in applications at the University of Redlands in California, University of Hawaii, Western Washington University, Eastern Washington University, University of Portland, Idaho State University, and the University of Washington. I got into all of them except for the University of Portland (which was my “fallback” school AND the very first letter I received – panic ensued.) and the University of Washington where I was waitlisted. University of Redlands pursued me hard and was offering me tuition scholarships and room and board scholarships. I was just about ready to sign the documents and accept their offer of enrollment, when the Dean of Admissions at UW called to tell me that I was off of the waitlist and had just been accepted into the 2nd-ranked SLP program in the nation. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I started graduate school with classes and started seeing clients. Every quarter the staff would meet as a whole and would grade each student with either a 1 or a 0 based on their performance in both classes and then with writing reports and seeing clients. For the first three quarters, I was graded a 0. I had the same advisor for all of the clients that I saw that first year, and she was the one that swayed the committee to give me a zero. When she called me in to talk to me about why, she told me that I wasn’t bubbly enough and that I wasn’t fit to work with children. She told me that if I got one more zero grade that I would be kicked out of the program. I didn’t change anything about who I was. I kept moving forward and doing the best that I could. I never got another zero score and I excelled in my classes and with my clients. I passed the comprehensive examination and was eventually awarded my Masters of Science Degree in the area of Speech-Language Pathology. During my last quarter of the program, I was accepted into an internship position with Central Kitsap School District and completed that. After graduation, CK asked if I would interview for a position in their school district. I also interviewed for a position with the Pasco School District. They were throwing money my direction and were begging me to come and work for them. I hadn’t heard from Central Kitsap School District for a few weeks after the interview and assumed I didn’t get the job. I told Pasco that I would come and visit the district before making my decision. The next day, CK called and offered me that job. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I moved back in with my parents, bought my truck and started my new job. Life was good. I loved my schools and my coworkers. I worked with the best special education team in the district. We helped so many kids. I did my job and went home. I had good friends and we got together often. Life was good. The only thing I was missing was a boyfriend or a husband. I dated off and on, people that others would recommend for me. Wasn’t too interested. Then a friend convinced me to try online dating. I signed up for match.com and went on a lot of dates, ranging from a super fun day at the Seahawks game and Chinese food afterwards to a man flying out to meet me and ending up in tears on my parents’ kitchen floor because I told him I just wasn’t interested. After that last incident, I closed my account and decided that I was done! No more! A couple months later, I had a friend tell me to try the online thing again. She would pay for one month and if I didn’t find anyone I liked, I could be done and shut it down. My first contact was with a dispatcher from Wenatchee. Brian and I talked for a little bit online, had our first meet up two months later in April. He moved to Bremerton in June, proposed to me in July and we were married the following August. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I got pregnant right away with Amelia, our first daughter. She was perfect. After a while and many at-home behavior problems later, she was diagnosed with food allergies at one year old, and then sensory processing disorder at eighteen months. I was distraught and not sure what to do when someone suggested calling Harbor Children’s Therapy. There was one spot left on the list. She went to therapy for a year and made great progress so we were dismissed from therapy. After much worry and angst, we decided to try to get pregnant again and almost exactly three years after Amelia, Emerson was born. She was also perfect. Our family was complete! The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Six months after Emerson was born, my husband came home after work one day to tell me that he had molested his 15-year-old niece. He was kicked out of the fire department, fired from his job with Cencom as a fire and police dispatcher, I kicked him out of our house, and he was eventually arrested and charged with two felonies. Life as we knew it was thrown into chaos and we had to adapt and change quickly. Life before was filled with busy days and diapers, dinner and bath time, happiness and laughter. Life after was filled with interviews by CPS agents, investigations and pictures being taken throughout our house. Running to family and friends for shelter and safety, and secrets flying all over the place. We were all left reeling, and as if it couldn’t get any worse, Brian chose to kill himself eighteen days from the day he told me what he had done. My husband, who I had fallen in love with, made two babies with, and shared life with, lit a portable gas grill inside his car, and died on a forest service road up in Sequim. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. My physical and mental health deteriorated. I had pain and aches and headaches. I was anxious and depressed, but wouldn’t admit that openly to anyone, and wouldn't talk to a doctor about any of it because I wasn’t going to be diagnosed with “those things”. I was reliving my unresolved assault from all those years ago. I was thrown into nightmares and night terrors. I was nauseous and so medicated that I didn’t know where I was, or even who I was some days. I was blessed with family and also friends who are more like family and we navigated through neurologists and hospitals, rheumatologists and endocrinologists, cardiologists and allergists, specialist after specialist. When finally I made it to a very smart neurologist at Swedish Medical Center who diagnosed me with seizures. He put me on medication, told me to get counseling, and sent me on my way. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Much of the next couple years are a blur. I was still not feeling well, but getting better every day. I was getting stronger. But I still felt so tormented. So conflicted. I wasn’t living. I was existing. I heard voices. I saw shadows. I convinced myself that I was insane. I had two therapists diagnose me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in denial. Surely I didn’t have that label, any label. I was just tired. Or just sick. Or maybe just sick and tired. I wandered through life like a zombie, my friends and families prompting me where to go and what to do and how to act and what to say. My girls grew up super-fast, and with the help of those same family and friends, we took one step at a time, and wandered through life that way for a while. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. One day, my friend had had enough and she reached out for help. Our world was suddenly filled with books and articles. Phrases such as deliverance and demons and prayer and the armor of God swirled in and out of our vocabulary. We began to explore our faith and our friendship and realized that we were destined for more in this lifetime. We began actively praying together and fighting these demons that were torturing and tormenting us and our families with our prayers and our declarations from God. We became stronger and more sure of ourselves in faith. We wielded the weapons of God and marched forward as members of God’s army. Life started happening again. I was living. My girls were living. I was invested in my life and what happened in it. I was not merely existing. I was living! I was living for God! I was serving Him, and praying and lamenting and reading scripture and throwing myself deeper and deeper into my faith. I was exploring things about religion and faith that I had never even heard of before. With the help of God, and my dear friend and prayer partner, I was taking back my life and the life of my girls. We were walking forwards as His daughters. I had never been more sure of anything in my entire life than I was about where God was leading us to go. His plan for us is amazing. He reached down and He scooped us out of the pit of muck and mire. He washed us off and has lead us to where we are today! The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. This is a summary of my life story. Looking back over the span of my life, God’s beautiful hands were covering us in all of these situations. The good and the bad. Each step that we take in our days is orchestrated by the Holy One, our Lord and Savior. He knows what is going to happen to us each and every step of the way, and He holds us in the palm of His hands. Some people question where God is in the bad moments. I don’t question that one bit. Look back over the twists and turns in my life! He was there, for each one. Sure I was assaulted. But I wasn’t killed! Yes, my life fell apart in the blink of an eye it seemed like, but it was all such a blessing in the end! He wasn’t hurting my daughter anymore. She was free of him and the torment that he put her through. Yes there were many twists and turns in my life. At any of those junctures I could have turned left or right and I would be living a completely different life. And when you go back further and think about generational twists and turns that have happened, you have to believe that there is some Grand Conductor, making everything flow the way that it is supposed to. My dad was born in Germany. My mom was born in Bremerton. Yet they found each other out of the billions of other people in the world. All of the choices that I made in my life are like living out a real-life choose your own adventure book. The crossroads that we are brought to set the course for the rest of our lives. But, I am so very thankful that I have a Mighty God that gave me the free will to make my own decisions, but also gave me the tools of His Word and prayer to help guide my path and my journey. And in those moments that I maybe didn’t make the right choice, and it led me to a less-than-favorable situation, He was there to pick me up, dust me off, and set me back on the course that He has planned for me. The beautiful hand of God was in all of these situations.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I am eternally grateful for the course my life has taken, the good and the bad. Each step is a blessing. Each day we are given is a blessing. And each scenario is a choice. You get to choose where you go, but you also get to choose how you react in each situation. These situations can make or break you. For a while, I let them break me. I was broken and I didn’t know how to fix myself. Ah, but that, my friends, is the key. You can’t fix yourself. You have to let God fix you. He gets to be the one to fix you. He is the one that you can turn to when your path just isn’t going the way you think it is supposed to. I guarantee you that as you think you are floundering and being buried under the yuck, God already has a plan for deliverance and assistance for you. He is there to help you through, the good and the bad, and he knows what He wants for you out of this life. Keep walking one step in front of the other, and it is so much easier, and your future is so much brighter if you just stick with Him. He’ll guide you through. He’ll be there for you. The beautiful hand of God is in all situations.

Amen!