“I Told You So” Sayeth Sidney & the Lord

“I told you so.”  This is my latest mantra.  Unfortunately, it is accompanied by Randy Travis’ 1987 country hit, “I Told You So.”  Which brings back some 1987 memories, I would rather not recount.  

But enough about me.  

I have this aunt, she is my dad’s only baby sister.  The fourth of five children, she is the eternal hippie.  Not long ago she was sitting at my parents’ kitchen table braiding a piece of leather and some beads into her now waist-length, gray hair.  My dad said, “Sidney, it is not 1970 anymore, it hasn’t been for 50 years.” She flashed him a peace sign and continued her work.  

That lapse in judgment aside, Sidney is a real character. 

She quotes Bob Dylan incessantly and more recently moved into a camper, again.  I don’t know why she ever attempts living in a non-transportable dwelling.  It has never suited her. She always returns to the reckless freedom of mobile living.  A nod to her wanderlust, or passion for vagrancy.

Aunt Sidney never voices regret, ever.  Truly, this woman can recount what most people would consider their demise without a single nod to remorse.  And while she is known for rants about war, global atrocities, and the need to recycle, grow our own potatoes, and the beauty of washing your clothes in a babbling brook, she isn’t known for complaints.  

She is the epitome of the free spirit. Her namesake, a spin-off of her maternal grandmother’s Nordic name, Sidney means “wide meadow.”  And this further speaks to me. My Aunt Sidney is a free and breezy field of wildflowers. It is no oddity to hear her start a sentence with, “when I was in prison…”  or “this is why we don’t need electricity…” without missing a beat.  

However, she is more famously known for the statement, “I told you so.” 

It might just be an odd tick.  But she says it all the time, often without warrant.  

A first-class chef, Sidney has prepared gourmet meals from over a campfire to some of the most elite ski resorts in the country.  She’s prepared hollandaise sauce and poached eggs for Bruce Willis and her best-kept secret? Freshly squeezed lime on French toast. 

I know.  It doesn’t sound right. 

But in the words of my infamous gourmet-chef-hippie-aunt, you are going to want to try it and then remember, I told you so.  

Anyway, once I used feta in a recipe that called for bleu cheese.  As everyone raved over the concoction, Sidney said, “see! I told you so!” 

Here is the thing,  I don’t think she did.  I am pretty positive I have never heard Sidney say, “feta works when you don’t have bleu cheese.”

Still, the option of feta in lieu of bleu cheese is forever embedded in my mind as Sidney’s good advice.  

Aunt Sidney tosses “I told you so” into conversation like other folks use “the.”

The lemon tree produced a billion lemons, so Sidney canned divine lemon masterpieces and then said, “See! You can do anything with too many lemons!  I told you so!’

She braided my Hippie Baby’s hair and Luke thanked her, (such a weird sentence.)  And she said, “I told you so!”

If I have a say, we will put “I told you so,” on Sidney’s tombstone unless of course, it is true, and old hippies don’t die, they just fade into crazy.  In this case, I am going to just get her a tie-dyed t-shirt and an 8-track of Peter, Paul, and Mary.  

This brings me back to “I told you so.”  Between Aunt Sidney, Randy Travis, and me, I have built a solid case for the current mantra. 

I told you so.  

You see, I have been on a wild ride in my belief. And while there are plenty of scriptures to back up my newfound hope, “I told you so, “ has left me undone.  

I propose this could be a good word for a few of my readers as well.  

As of late, I have had some huge prayers answered.  And I don’t suspect, I know for sure, the next few months will play out like a movie in the story of my life. 

How do I know? Well, because, God told me so.  

And no, I am not trippin’ on anything that’s origins started at Woodstock.  I can’t say it is audible, but I can’t say it isn’t. In my last few posts, I have divulged some of what happened in the process of writing my third book, “Well, Girl” (now available for order).  And in summary, the theme is belief. 

No, not the nod and kneel, and make Sunday lunch kind of belief.  Real, tangible, uninhibited, reckless, belief. Suddenly I picture myself spinning in a field of wildflowers, completely free and peace-filled.  A frock of blonde curls blowing in the wind, dressed in a humanely sourced or upcycled sundress with daisies in my hair. My Aunt Sidney would approve of all of this… however, I don’t care what case she makes, my legs and armpits are clean-shaven.  

At the core of this freedom is the understanding of my belief in terms of calling it done.  What I continue to uncover is that at the root of faithlessness is the doubt of the heart, or what I suspect my aunt would call your third eye.  Now, before you jump ship because of that weirdness, hear me out. This is simply another term for the heart, and the heart is everything when it comes to belief.  

You can say, I believe with your mouth.

This may be what we know, what we can recite from memory.  Maggie, John, Luke, Sophie, Sam, and Charlie are my children.  I can tell you this. But you might look at a few of them and say, “they don’t look a thing like you?”  And I could argue they are mine and still not be able to convince you. But in my heart, you could never, ever convince me they are not my children.  

This is the substance of my motherhood.  

I told you they are my children.  

But I know in my heart, this is the truth.  

And, I believe, now more than ever, this is God’s response to our prayers.

I told you this would be what counts you righteous.  And I told you, you need only believe.  

But what we profess with our mouths is different than what we know in our hearts.  

And this is where “I told you so,” has meant so much.  

In Mark 11:24 Jesus says, “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe in your heart that you have received it, and it will be yours.” 

And I have proposed this before, I have asked, but then I go to work on my unbelief. I have never stopped to really believe that what I asked for has already been received.  And I further purpose this is at the root of our lack. The place where we are left wondering, “wait a minute, I asked in His name and He totally left me hanging!”  

And then, to make myself feel warm and fuzzy again I say, “Well!  I guess He is just in a different time zone than me!” Or worse, “That must not have been His will.”

At the risk of sounding too much like Aunt Sidney, I have told you this before, God’s will was Jesus.  

Outside of that, in our struggles, which are of this world, a world He overcame, He said to ask and we would receive.  This meant healing, peace, joy, abundance, greater faith, wisdom, and a wealth of other things. However, if in our hearts we are burdened with law and our lack, we are not in alignment with belief in the things not yet seen.  

Out of the mouth, we can say, “Lord please provide me with an increase to pay for these medical bills.”  But after the amen, if in our heart we believe, He may or may not answer, because last time we ended up with a bigger bill from penalties, we don’t believe what He said was true.  Or if we recount that thing we did that one time in a field in 1987 and doubt our righteousness, our heart is not in the fullness of belief.  

“I told you so” is now the thing I am adding after every single amen.  

You asked.  “This is the thing or struggle I most need your help with.”

Now, try this.  Instead of a simple “Amen,” and then getting right back into the bowels of “what if’s” and goods and bads, haves and have-nots, and all the ick that comes from worry and unbelief, imagine the end result is exactly what you requested and God’s simple answer is, “I told you so.”

“Yes, I told you I would and I will.” 

I have gone so far as to take the “so” off of “I told you so.”  Frankly, it sounds a little like something we say when a kid fails at a bike ramp.  “Timmy! I told you so! Now your arm is broken in four places!”

But “I told you,” has a flippant, yet definite nod to the yes we were promised.

“God, will you help me?”

His answer is always yes because He told you it would be.  All He asked is that we change our minds, hearts or third eye to fully believe in that which has yet to be seen.  

And repetition and the past may be the reason your subconscious is out of whack and unable to grasp He who dwells in us, the hope of glory. 

There is nothing better to reprogram our minds than repetition. So, might I recommend that this be your mantra too? 

I told you so. 

“My answer is yes.  I will gladly help you as I told you I would.  You needn’t doubt my goodness or my mercy. Believe because I told you so.”

And all the hippies say… Amen.  

Jesus be all over you.  Love, Jami

He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20

Please join me in praying for another beloved hippie in my life, my Uncle Alan.  He is very ill and it would mean the world to me if you would lift him up in the belief of healing and wholeness.  Thank you. If you have any prayer requests you can email me at jami@sacredgroundstickyfloors.com  I am happy to believe with you.

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