Mary\u2019s hands and feet were swollen from the long day of work in the factory.\u00a0 Her plight of having a dead-end job for the last twenty years was only magnified by learning recently what her name meant.\u00a0 Bitter. \u00a0Well, that was fitting.\u00a0 Good thing she had never looked it up before; it might\u2019ve made her, well, bitter for all these years.\u00a0 She thought back to what her mom always told her growing up, \u201cGod has a plan for you, Mary.\u201d\u00a0 That was a hard one to believe right now.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t understand why God had left her in the place she found herself as a 40-something-year-old woman.\u00a0 Didn\u2019t she always tithe to Him and didn\u2019t she always go to church?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
There was a time when she tried to sing for Him in the choir.\u00a0 She thought she had a good voice, and she was sure that was what He wanted her to do.\u00a0 But, every time she tried to be involved with the music ministry, something came up.\u00a0 One Christmas, she couldn\u2019t sing in the program because her mother fell ill.\u00a0 Another year at Easter, she was all set to sing her heart out in the pageant when her daughter had to have an emergency appendectomy.\u00a0 Then, the next time she tried, her work schedule changed so that she couldn\u2019t make it to the practices.\u00a0 She had even talked with the music director about possibly singing a solo sometime but that never worked out, either.<\/p>\n
When Mary sat in the services on Sundays listening to the choir, she felt envious of those men and woman up on the platform.\u00a0 Oh, how she wanted to sing for God! \u00a0Instead, she found herself stuck in the nursery every third Sunday of the month.\u00a0 That was the one duty in the church that her life never seemed to get in the way of.\u00a0 She loved the kids, but she felt insignificant.\u00a0 Did babysitting really matter in the scheme of God\u2019s plan?\u00a0 She didn\u2019t think so.<\/p>\n
This Sunday, Mary was again in the nursery. \u00a0One little guy only wanted to be held by the teenage helper, so the other ten toddlers were Mary\u2019s responsibility.\u00a0 She was worn out by the time all the parents came to pick their children up.\u00a0 The last to go was Clinton, a 4-year-old visitor.\u00a0 The sign-in sheet showed his mom as being \u201cJane Smith.\u201d\u00a0 Mary wondered if that was her real name.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was a little shy at first, but after a while he played and did well,\u201d Mary told Jane.\u00a0 \u201cOur lesson was about how Jesus wants us to be fishers of men.\u00a0 Here\u2019s the picture he colored.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d said the young mother.\u00a0 Then, she diverted her eyes to the floor and mumbled, \u201cI appreciate you watching him for me.\u00a0 This is my first time in church.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clinton reached over the counter and gave Mary a hug.\u00a0 Mary\u2019s breath caught in her throat at the simplicity of a child\u2019s love\u2014it always got her.\u00a0 \u201cI hope to see you again, Clinton.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jane\u2019s mouth moved slightly into a smile, but desperate sadness stayed in her eyes.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m going to try to be here next week,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cWill you be here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cActually, someone else\u2026,\u201d Mary stopped.\u00a0 This mere girl needed a familiar face to return to.\u00a0 \u201cYes, I\u2019ll be here.\u201d<\/p>\n
She watched them walk away and heard Clinton say, \u201cI had fun, Mommy.\u00a0 I really did.\u201d\u00a0 Mary listened as he went on to tell her about the games they played, the story about this man named Jesus and, \u201cthen, we had cookies, Mommy.\u00a0 Ya know, the ones with the white stuff in the middle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary stood in the middle of toys strewn across the floor, residue from happy children.\u00a0 Her own mother\u2019s voice echoed once again in her head, \u201cGod has a plan for you, Mary.\u201d\u00a0 God had not assigned her to the wrong job.\u00a0 Of course!\u00a0 Singing wasn\u2019t her only<\/em> gift from Him. \u00a0But during her pity party all these years, she thought God only cared about and appreciated the \u201cjobs\u201d that could be on display for all to see.\u00a0 What if everyone sang in the choir and no one was there to watch the babies and toddlers so the parents could listen to the pastor\u2019s message?<\/p>\n Today, Clinton\u2019s mom heard about God\u2019s love for her, maybe for the first time.\u00a0 Mary couldn\u2019t get the look in Jane\u2019s eyes out of her mind.\u00a0 She allowed herself to feel what it looked like the overwhelmed mother must be feeling\u2014the desperation for a break and the longing to know there was hope for the future.\u00a0 Mary thought about her job at the factory, a seemingly menial job that was so mundane it was painful.\u00a0 But, if she didn\u2019t do her part in the manufacturing process, the finished product wouldn\u2019t work.\u00a0 And, what about Sarah, her coworker, who had begun to ask about this Jesus whom Mary claimed as her Savior?\u00a0 Just last week, Sarah asked Mary how Mary had hope and peace, even in difficult times.\u00a0 She was able to tell Sarah about the Lord and His great love for everyone and, yes, she even told Sarah that God had an intentionally designed path for each person\u2019s life.<\/p>\n How long it had taken her to see the obvious!\u00a0 She pictured God saying, \u201cAh, Mary, My daughter, you got it! \u00a0You finally realized My plan for you and the perfectness of it.\u00a0 Now, walk forward and enjoy all that I have for you.\u201d<\/p>\n Yes, God had her right where she was supposed to be.<\/p>\n \u201cMake me know Your ways, O LORD; teach me Your paths.\u201d\u00a0 Psalm 25:4, NAS<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a92011 Tammy Maseberg All Rights Reserved<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Mary\u2019s hands and feet were swollen from the long day of work in the factory.\u00a0 Her plight of having a dead-end job for the last twenty years was only magnified by learning recently what her name meant.\u00a0 Bitter. \u00a0Well, that was fitting.\u00a0 Good thing she had never looked it up before; it might\u2019ve made her, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-95","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fictional-stories","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=95"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=95"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=95"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inhisstepsministry.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=95"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}