A post about my friend

So, last night, I received an email from my church asking for volunteers to go to Burma, also known as Myanmar, to help with relief efforts after the cyclone that hit last week. I automatically thought I should forward said email to fiance Brandon because he has a passport and the kind of job that would allow him to leave at the drop of a hat. I have a passport, too, and it is desperate for use, but I definitely don't have the kind of job where I can just up and leave.

But then I almost didn't push the button.

I began to think about what would happen when he opened that email. I knew he would volunteer immediately. I know he would love to go. Earlier that day, I would soon learn, he and our friend Michael had talked about how much each of them could just jump on a plane and go. And I almost didn't push the button because I don't want him to go.

And then I just pushed the button.

And yes, I'm being dramatic. But, here's the thing. My best friend lost her husband more than a year ago. She became a widow at 24 because of a freak boating accident, and now she's raising her son as a single mother. And I thought for a fleeting second that if Brandon went on that trip, something would happen and he wouldn't come home and I would be a widow even before I got married. So I basically didn't want him to even KNOW about this potential relief trip. And feeling led, feeling pushed, I sent the email.

Later that night, before Brandon even got home and saw my email, he mentioned his conversation with Michael, how he and Michael both wished they could just go and help. That's when I told him about the email, about the possibility of going, and about how, for a few fleeting seconds, I didn't even want him to know about it. I just had to send him that email because I knew I would be disobedient to God if I didn't. Does that even make sense?

Anyway, he's not going. The team filled up before he could respond. And when Brandon told me this morning that the team was formed and that they didn't need him, I felt oddly disappointed, maybe a little guilty. And then I felt comforted because I had this sense for a moment that I learned something here. Last night, I prayed on my way home in my car. I told God, "Brandon is not mine. He's yours." And I knew it to be true.

The irony in all of this is that the reason I didn't want Brandon to go to Burma is because I was afraid of something happening to him, of experiencing the same loss my best friend experienced more than a year ago. And then I got her email. And she's going to Burma. She's living in obedience, and obedience means different things to different lives. To me, it meant admitting my husband (to be) belongs to God and not to me. To him, it means volunteering. To her, it means going. And God is good, all the time.