Mt. Sophia Ideas

Saying Yes Ain’t All It’s Cracked Up to Be

I’ll say yes, Lord, I’ll say yes

To your will, Lord, I’ll say yes.

Where you lead me, I will go.

I’ll say yes, Lord, I’ll say yes.

When I enter into the presence of the Lord singing this chorus, my zeal for God seems so strong that I could go to the darkest places for Him.  Then I walk out into the sunlight and realize that I just have to go back to the life He gave me.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful for the life God gave me.  I made a conscious decision to say “yes.”  But I blush when I tell you that sometimes I’m just like Peter in the courtyard, saying, “Who me?  Nah, you got it wrong; I don’t know that guy.”

You have to hand it to Peter; he understood the price was high. He was past the romance and into the reality.  Sometimes saying “yes” just stinks.

Have you ever arrived at the fulfillment of a dream, then realized that instead of living an episode of The Cosby Show, it was more like Better Off Ted?  I have.

When I put on my hiking boots and marched off to “homeschooling adventure camp,” I had pink-cotton-candy dreams of accelerated children learning to read at the age of four, quoting Shakespeare at the age of eight, reading Tolstoy in middle school, getting their doctorate at 16, winning the Nobel Peace prize at 21…

Don’t be laughing at me, people.  You’ve had those kinds of fantasies too, even if you don’t go public with them.

Click here for the sound of screeching brakes.  (Jk, just use your imagination.)

In my world, the screeching brakes came in the form of dyslexia.  I spent years in self-blame.  I’ve invested hundreds of dollars and hours.  I’ve spent many days crying in frustration, many nights lying awake wondering if I’ve ruined my children’s futures.

Eleven years out, I can say that my eldest began reading somewhere around fourth grade.  He is now a high schooler studying ancient history and world literature.  My eighth grader still struggles with reading.  (Gasp!)  But he can read when he must, and he loves science and music.

As if I didn’t have my hands full, three years ago we went to Brazil and adopted two girls, ages seven and 13.  When people ask what made us decide to do that, I tell them “temporary insanity.”

Looking at a doe-eyed photo of an adorable orphan is simply not the same as having damaged, wounded children in your own home. Sometimes we say “yes” because we can’t see everything down the road.  I guess that’s a good thing, because if God revealed all at once, we’d be huddled in a corner somewhere.

Why haven’t I given up?  Why not send the boys to school and the girls to a good foster home?  (Believe me, I’ve wondered if I should.)  When you know that you are called, and you say “yes,” you don’t back down.  You pray up, you suit up, and then you stand up.

I write transparently because I want anyone who is struggling and looking at someone else with envy to know that the object of that envy labors too.  Any amount of success starts with “yes.”  Saying “yes” ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, but sometimes it’s so much more.