My Time – In His Time
Ordinarily one would tend to associate the color blue with somberness, sadness and even abusive circumstances; and oftentimes they do, but I’ve noticed that at the most auspicious occasions in my life, the color blue, in variant shades, has been my pop color of choice: turquoise, for my eighth grade Awards Night ceremonies, a tale of which I am about to shar, royal blue, for high school graduation day; powder blue, on my wedding day; aqua, for my newborn baby as he left the hospital; and Egyptian blue, for the cover for my book. Each event represents my so-called claim to fame, but this tale holds prominence on my life’s timeline of events.
It was a night that will never be forgotten. My slinky turquoise skirt suit was a ‘show stopper’ with its bias-cut frilled hemline that moved in pendulum fashion as I walked, and I imagined myself sashaying across the stage to receive my awards during the 8th Grade Awards Night ceremonies.
“The award’s program is about to begin. You’re in Row 3, Seat 10; that’s the last seat of this row,” the usher prompted me.
My name began with Cu.
“Cu…Finally, another three names before mine!” I beamed with self-motivation.
Continual bursts of applause filled every nook and cranny of the room as family and friends beamed with obvious pride. Every person in my row would have to exit pass me to the stage..
“Finally, I’m next!” I told myself, unable to contain the inexplicable joy I felt at that moment.
“Accept certificate with the left hand and shake hands with the right hand,” I kept rehearsing,
Dahlia stumbled over my legs as she passed over me.
“Sorry!” she fumbled at a strained apology.
“Lights! Camera! Action!” I mentally dramatized.
Sweaty palms. Then a flashback - words from a song we sang on the bus, en route to school outings…
“Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
Ms. Leslie announced the next name on the list before her.
“Our next award is for Daniels, Cory!” She declared in a sing-song tone of voice.
I surmised that names must have gotten mixed up somehow, so I waited…and I waited…and I waited some more. Frankly, I waited all night but NEVER heard my name called and I was more than disappointed.
I was numb. I could not speak. All of a sudden, it was if I could not hear. For the most part, I could not move. The only movements were internal–a throbbing, panicked heart and a bathroom call to which I could not readily heed..
No, there was no curtain call for this impressionable teen that night. And, while I critically pointed the finger of blame, I’ve since come to believe that, beneath it all, it was a divinely-appointed event–a reserved kairos opportunity that was yet to unfurl. Fame, shame, or blame, Jesus, when He entered into my life, put it all into perspective.
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