Ironic blessings

I love accents. Always have.

I seem to pay more attention when someone speaks with an accent. (How do you think Brad landed me? Two words: Augusta, Georgia. I didn’t stand a chance.)

British accents sound intelligent. Australian accents sound rowdy and playful. Southern accents sound so… Southern. Yankee accents sound obnoxiously fun. Spanish and French accents are very romantic.

In Israel, our guide was Rami Fellemon. He created and runs Jerusalem Evangelistic Outreach (JEO), which focuses on sharing the gospel with Arab teenagers through tours through the Holy Land, community outreach and their coffee shop in Bethlehem.

Rami is a Christian originally from Egypt, now living in Palestine. His English is flawless with a beautiful accent. He was our home base in unfamiliar territory and in my mind, his voice became equated with safety and comfort.

We were on our way to the JEO coffee shop in the bus one day and Rami began telling us over

the bus’s speaker system about the small gift shop in the restaurant. One of the necklaces held a pendant with a small replica of the Ironic Blessing.

The Ironic Blessing? What in the world is that? Several of us looked at each other quizzically but kept listening to learn about this mysterious new aspect of our faith that we knew nothing about.

He said it several more times then mentioned the scripture it was from and the context. Suddenly we figured it out. He was saying Aaronic Blessing, as in Aaron, Moses’ brother, the first priest of Israel.

We all shared a good laugh at our misunderstanding. I said, “You know, I think I like the Ironic Blessing better.”

My life so far as been a comedy (and sometimes tragedy) of ironies. And because I’m way too reflective for my own good, the meaning and beauty of God’s unfolding plan is not lost on me.

One of my dearest friends is asleep in Sydney’s room downstairs. She is recently divorced and I spent several hours helping her pack up and move out of her house yesterday. It was excruciatingly hot and humid, the ‘movers’ were painfully slow and annoyingly grumpy and the whole day had taken its toll.

She is closing on her old house this morning and closing on her new house this afternoon. So while she had to be moved OUT by yesterday, she won’t be able to move IN until later today, which made last night an irritating purgatory between her old life and her new life.

She showed up at my house around 8 PM ready for a drink and some company, which Brad and I were all too happy to provide. She was completely spent, physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I gave her some food and Brad made her a drink as we finished the movie we were watching. After the movie, I gave her a towel and some loaner pajamas and told her to go take a shower and stay here for the night.

There was no argument.

I threw clean sheets on Sydney’s bed, turned on the fan and jacked down the air so it would be nice and cool and put a glass of water on her nightstand. Once she was settled, I made my way upstairs and crawled into bed.

Within minutes the tears were falling. “I remember that pain,” I told Brad. “Watching the pieces of the life you knew and loved get loaded up on a truck, one box at a time. I wouldn’t wish that upon anybody.”

He remembered that pain as well and as I fell asleep in his arms, I marveled at the ironic blessing my new life had become. I was confident that my friend’s life would become an ironic blessing as well and was determined to help her see it as God revealed it in due time.

I had made a new friend earlier that day. Amanda Middleton is a fellow coach/writer/speaker and also owns several successful businesses. She recently launched The PurposeFULL Woman ministry and podcast and (speaking of adorable Southern accents) apparently, we were just best friends who had never met.

We were chatting on the phone yesterday about the importance of vulnerability and authenticity when ministering to other people, which you all know is an ethos of mine. (If that’s not painfully obvious by now, I just don’t know what to do for you.)

Mandi also has a story full of ironic blessings and at a poignant point in our conversation, she asked, “How do you put it back on the shelf? When you share your story and what you’ve been through, how do you keep it from getting back on you?” She told me how sometimes when she ministers to someone else by telling her story, the pain can hit afresh and she can get stuck in it.

I assured her that I knew the feeling.

But the truth is, I’m thankful that I can access those feelings and emotions. Even in tears last night, I knew the power that old pain gave me in loving my friend that evening. I know that’s why she felt confident in showing up at my house, because she knew she would find safety and understanding.

And you just can’t get that from someone who ‘has it all together.’

Earlier that day, my friend’s mom warned us as we packed, “Be careful what you pray for. God just might give it to you.” I laughed and told her how thankful I was that God rarely listens to me.

Because unanswered prayers usually end up being ironic blessings.

I can’t listen to the Garth Brooks song ‘Unanswered Prayers’ without getting emotional. It has the same message of ironic blessing as Rascal Flatts’ ‘God Bless the Broken Road.’

I guess the Lord knows what He’s doin’ after all.

And every time I wear my pendant, I giggle and thank God for ironic blessings.

The Aaronic/Ironic Blessing (Numbers 6:24-26):

The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make His face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn His face toward you
and give you peace.

Amen.