“I think we will have a good group coming today,” Lanita told me.
She had organized a women’s tea in her home because she wanted to give me a chance to speak about my life and promote my new book, Will the Real Woman Please Stand Up? Based on her ad in the community newspaper and the flyer she’d passed out in her neighborhood, she expected 30-35 women.
That day she and five ladies involved in her ministry flurried around the kitchen, while the fragrance of spicy teas and freshly-baked scones permeated the air. Soon they carried a colorful array of teapots to the mahogany table and set them near the silver platters of autumn-decorated cookies and blueberry scones.
The clocked ticked. But the doorbell didn’t ring.
Finally, one guest arrived. Just before the starting time of 1 p.m., three more women bustled in the door. After preparing their decorated name tags and hurrying to gather their tea and refreshments, they moved to the spacious living room, which overlooked a sun-kissed lawn and majestic trees.
Lanita stood near the fireplace and welcomed everyone, smiling as if to an overflow crowd rather than only nine women. We were disappointed; God had a better plan.
After Lanita introduced me, I stood and smiled at the array of eager faces, unaware of the life experiences represented in that room.
“We all face some kind of fear. For me, the fear of rejection ruled my life throughout my childhood and into my adult years. I want to show you how God began to set me free.”
After explaining about the pain of growing up feeling sad, lonely, unloved and unimportant, I admitted that I’d built a wall and worn a mask to protect myself from rejection by family, friends, teachers and eventually coworkers.
Near the end of my time, I lifted my book from a side table. “I want to read one story. It is about my sweet curly-haired 9-year-old great niece who broke through my aloofness and pulled down the remaining bricks of my wall.”
Later, I said, “Have you felt rejected in your life? I understand. I’ve been there. But I’m here to tell you, with God there is hope. He wants to set us free so we can stand up and say, ‘This is the real me!’”
After walking to the couch and sitting next to Lanita, I asked the group, “Do you have any questions?”
Instead of a question, one woman told the group that her husband had died recently, and she’d had to begin making decisions herself. “It was scary, but I’ve started seeing changes in myself. I like my life and the person I’ve become.”
Her honesty started a snowball of sharing. Another recent widow piped up, “Thank you. Now I have hope that I will be all right.”
From across the room, a reserved woman admitted she’d felt intimidated living in that affluent community because she’d grown up poor. Someone assured her that wasn’t an issue with people living there.
A tall woman who didn’t know anyone except Lanita, began to tell about her mother’s mental breakdown and the three years she and her siblings had had to spend living apart from her parents. Several women responded to her heartache with soft words.
After a while, I commented, “If we had had a room full of people, we wouldn’t be telling each other these things,” They agreed and kept on talking.
During those unplanned 30 minutes, we became a small group of friends who felt free to share our deep hurts and fears. A desire to listen, encourage, and console one another filled our hearts.
When Lanita sensed we were finished, she ended with this: “We expected many more women to come today, but I want you to know you were chosen to be here.”
I’m sure God smiled.
Yes, we did eventually end up at the book table and everyone left with a book. For me, the priceless part came through the comment of one of the guests. “We’ve been talking, and we all want to get back together after we finish reading your book.”
Numbers don’t matter to God. He simply wants to change each heart, and He knows the best way to do that.
