I
knew the IF-GATHERING was coming for months. I knew because one of our Board
members was on the host lead team and she reminded me…often. Although I was
proud of her and glad she was enthusiastic about this gathering of women around
the world via live stream…I was trying to avoid it like the plague.
I’ve
been to women’s conferences before and they all seemed designed for a woman I
wasn’t even close to being. The women attending those conferences looked like
the women speakers. They wear jewelry made by women in Uganda that they bought
in support of a ministry; they have read the latest books by Ann Voskamp or are
in the latest Bible Study by Lisa Harper or Beth Moore. They are surrounded by female friends just
like them, married, kids (one is a foster child or adopted child), they
volunteer at their kid’s school, and they meet at Starbucks to share life. They
are leaders in some capacity at their church and many of them don’t have to
work and can stay home to raise Godly kids. There are so many women who are in
the middle class and live this life of like mindedness and are able to serve
our Father and expand the Kingdom. Which is why most of the conferences are
designed for this group of women.
But,
the folks I hang out with live in an entirely different universe. They often
smell like poverty, they have teeth that are broken and falling out, they may
wear the same clothes for days at a time because they can’t afford a laundromat;
the clothes are ripped and stained and too small or too big. They haven’t
bathed because most of the time they don’t have water. They have no social
skills; they may butt in line or smack their lips and drop crumbs on the floor.
They may share loudly about being sexually abused by an uncle and going into
foster care and aging out of the system. Their income is most likely a
disability check. They have no concept of current events; many can’t read or
spell and dropped out of school to have a baby. Most all of them have kids they
are estranged from. They haven’t seen them in years and their kids most likely
have been or are in the system. Their days are filled with surviving.
Literally stressing moment by moment about basic needs; will they eat today?
Will they get exploited or bullied? Will they be able to pay the utility bill?
They don’t sleep through the night because they fret; they have no idea what it
means to be still. Many have undiagnosed
mental illness and should be on meds. Nightmares, memories of abuse and neglect
flood their minds and this is the way it’s always been so it will always be.
I’ve
said often that I would rather sit on a curb with a drunk or in a hoarder’s car
than go to church functions that fit everybody else but “my guys and gals.” God has given me an understanding and empathy
for these folks, because in many ways I’m just like them.
God
revealed to me in 1979 that ministry was in my future and that ministry would
not include marriage or children. Well, okay then. But as God continued to mold
and shape me, I drifted farther and farther away from typical, accepted and
expected.
I
wear blazers and pants every single work day that include two ink pens on my
lapel and pins that advocate, “Patients first”, “Make a difference” and “Every
child counts.” Every other public moment of my life include jeans and a
sweatshirt or t-shirt or hoodie that have scripture written on them and I
usually wear an Isaiah 58, In His
Service ball cap. I don’t wear make-up, my hands are usually dry and I
color my hair every once in awhile, regardless of how wide the gray stripe
grows. I can’t converse about my marriage, or a fabulous dinner I cooked for a
party of 6 or my last vacation to Disney World.
I
can talk about how God has directed me to a family who are homeless because of
unpaid medical bills or how we don’t have emergency housing in Tulsa or how
seniors are going without food and medicine because they can’t afford
transportation to get out, or after a person goes to a psychiatric hospital for
stabilization they are discharged back to the same environment they left,
because we have no step-down services for them.
I
can talk about lives destroyed by guilt and shame from abuse and abortion and
about caregivers suffering from compassion fatigue and how women I knew were
killed by domestic violence, or families devastated by gun violence or suicide
or mental illness or substance abuse.
I
can talk about how many posts I see on Facebook that are horrid, fueled by
ignorance that perpetuates hate and are posted by Christians. How prejudice and bigotry are passed from
generation to generation and far from the teachings of Jesus.
I
digress. So you can see why I’m not invited over for an evening with friends much.
A
week before the IF-GATHERING God
nudged me to take some women to this weekend event. I admit I balked at first
because I anticipated a weekend of disappointment and reminders of what these
women were without. I entered my “zone
of prayer” to invite those He put on my heart. In the zone I also prayed for
their protection, protection from bias and prejudice and ignorance. I also
prayed for protection from distraction. To let them hear from God through
topics and discussion they could relate to and I wanted them to feel welcome. Oh God
please don’t let them feel different, please let them fit in.
We
got there on Friday evening and ordered food from the Purple People Feeder food
truck! You see food is a very big draw for many of my folks. Ramen noodles and
hot pockets can only go so far. One of our ladies has an anxiety disorder and
she eats by taking a bite and walking around. Often she doesn’t finish because
she wants to save it in case she gets hungry later and has no other food. But, tonight
she ate. Every. Single. Bite. She sat and joined in the conversation and
commented, “This is really good but I’m full.” Then she laughed and continued
eating.
IF. If there
could be a women’s gathering that included diverse speakers from around the
world, IF they could talk about the
tough stuff; injustice, sex trafficking, cancer, living in the mundane, special needs,
fostering/adoption, abortion, refugees. IF
they even could have the courage to mention mental illness. IF they could have sign language
interpreters, IF they would include
real life tough stories even some without a happy ending, IF they wouldn’t be satisfied with the event and work harder and
harder to include all women so everyone could relate and KNOW that God completely
and wholly loves every one of them…us. IF they would step into the role of
walking with women in making disciples. The 2018 IF:
GATHERING did all of this more!
I
can say with a full heart that our ladies were welcomed! They were engaged in
conversations with ladies they had never met before, their hands were held and
they were hugged. I saw them relax and laugh without interference from their
real life back home. I watched them share some of their story with others and
the others listened. They were encouraged.
Most
importantly they weren’t watching from the outside but for once in their lives
they were, “One of the girls.”
I
was also asked, “When are you going to take us again?”
Towards
the end of the second day I was asked by our Board member if we would take the
leftover lasagna from lunch. We loaded boxes of lasagna, meat sauce, salad and
bread into the van and headed out to take them home. All were indeed thankful!
For
a little while, they forgot about their lives of without and believed, “What IF?”
Thank
you so much to The Church at Midtown and the Church at Downtown for offering
this incredible opportunity to come together in the name of and to the glory of
Jesus!
In His service, deni
