June 28, 2008

Pick Me

Were you the girl that hated to play kickball?  Not that you didn't like the game itself, but rather the dreaded pre-game player selection.  Some days it was just plain PAINFUL.  
Please don't let me be the last one picked.  Please don't let me be the only one standing there.
Please don't let the captains look at each other and say, 'You can have her ... uhh, no, that's okay, you can.'  Please pick me.  PICK ME!  

Who decided that those two boys in my class would ALWAYS be the captains?  
Who decided that the biggest boy ALWAYS got to pitch?
Can't we change the rules to allow a couple of kids kick the ball at once, rather than feel the heat of a thousand eyes on my wobbly pre-teen legs?
When someone is throwing the ball at me, why do said legs always get tangled up and result in me going to the school nurse for ANOTHER band-aid for my poor knees?
Can't we skip the whole picking teams thing?  Let's just draw numbers for pete's sake!

This week, that same old feeling crept into my heart.  
My girls were playing some sort of name game in the back seat.  I was fiddling with the radio and not really paying attention until I heard my name.  My ears perked up.  I heard:
Do you like Mommy or Rocko (the dog) better?
In unison: MOMMY
Whew.  Glad I won that little popularity contest.

Then I heard:
Do you like Mommy or Uncle C. better?
Uh-oh.  I knew what was coming, but my heart was screaming 'PICK ME!'
In unison: UNCLE C!

Thanks, I murmured.   
My sweet girls immediately tried to back up and make amends with words.  But the damage was done.  My heart was pierced.  

In reality, I know they love me the most.  I know that they thrive under my tender, motherly care.  I know that Uncle C is more fun and they only get to see him once in awhile.  I know that he gets to shower them with love and gifts and fun times, and I am grateful.  I get to do the same, but I am also the enforcer.  The rule director.  The keeper of their hearts.
While my head cried pick me, my heart said I choose you, no matter what you say.

I realized the little girl that dreaded recess still lives in me.  I still have a voice deep down inside that pleads, pick me.  Some days it whispers to my heart in a room full of women.   Pick me.  I don't want to stand alone.  Other days it glares at my silent telephone and says pick me. When my children are giving out kisses.  My heart breathes pick me. 
I am often so consumed with others picking me,  that I ignore the gentle voice that whispers, I've already chosen you.  You are mine.  No matter who else picks you, you've already been chosen.   I won't ever leave you or let you go.  Dear one, you are forever chosen.  Let go of the inner need to be accepted and needed and wanted and enjoy the place I have for you.  A safe, place in the palm of my hand.  The hands that I purchased you with.  

But now this is what the Lord says,
he who created you, who formed you:
Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name.
You are mine.
~Isaiah 43:1
I have loved you with an everlasting love.  I have drawn you with loving kindness.
~Jeremiah 31:3


Charlene said...

Just found your blog will be back for more...hope you visit me for a laugh...

Charlene said...

just found your blog I will be back for more.

Suz said...

Thanks for sharing such an encouraging message. And you are not alone with being the last one picked. I was that girl!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

Laura said...

I too, was that last one to be picked at recess many times. Oh, how I hated it!

This was a beautiful post - it brought tears to my eyes. Not the part about kickball, but the part about your children and your heart! Thank you! I couldn't agree more!

Gray Matters said...

Beautifully written - such truth in your words.

Leigh said...

I was one of those girls. I guess I still am as well. What a beautiful and inspiring post!

Kimba said...

What a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing your feelings so perfectly. I think we all struggle with this and you're right. He has already chosen us. That will never change.

Kari & Kijsa said...

You are such a wonderful writer!

Have a blessed and wonderful day!

smiles, kari & kijsa

Amy said...

You've brought tears to my eyes, too. Those childhood hurts are difficult to completely forget, especially when someone goes and has to blog about it! I appreciate your transparency in admitting that those "pick me" thoughts still creep in. Don't we all feel that way at times? Isn't it wonderful that He has picked us! Thanks for another empowering reminder that we are children of the King. :-)

Amy Jo said...

Oh wow, your open paragraph took me right back to grade school! And I felt the "ouch" when your kids chose their uncle. You have a great way of bringing the reader right along with your emotions. Love that. I was especially touched by the gentle whisper. Whew. Don't we all need to listen to that voice more often? Thanks for sharing. Just wanted to pop over from Lysa T's blog and say "Hi!" Glad I did. Sweet blessings, Amy in OR

Luanne said...

Hi--I too found your blog via Lysa's. To be Chosen--it is the desire God placed in all of us, so that we would keep seeking until we finally would find Him. God bless!

Truth4thejourney said...

It always amazes me how many women have felt this way int their lives. (me included!)

Knowing who we are in Christ is so important if we want to have peace in our hearts. Knowing that God not only picked us, but formed us for a work that He has created is a very good feeling.

May God fill your heart with satisfaction and peace that can only come from Him!


God's girl said...

I was always the last one picked, so this was a beautiful post and a great reminder. Blessings!