I had no idea that last year’s storm would keep raging long after the whirlwind had stopped. I had no idea that once I had faced such physical terror, and survived, that I could ever be afraid of anything else again, only to find myself afraid of a whole lot.
Maybe the year we lived in a tiny cabin while we rebuilt was too consumed with plans, Pinterest, adrenaline and survival to begin any kind of process of healing.
And healing from what? The words make me feel ashamed. Yes, it was sad, hard, devastating and unbelievable. But not nearly as much for us as many others. We all lived. A way was made to build our house back. My parents too. The mobile home we owned next door was destroyed–the only possible “solution” to a debt-trap we had been under for ten years (true confession: I had prayed for years that “a tree would fall on it”). And our wedding business question was answered–all in about twenty seconds.
That is amazing. We got to witness the power and providence of God in a way few people ever do. Not to mention the countless numbers of wonderful people we got to meet, love we got to receive, all orchestrated from God’s perfect working out of His plan.
So what’s this storm about? The aftermath of sad feelings, fear and…paralysis? We’re in our new home now. Life is good. New, empty cabinets. We can begin again. That’s what I keep telling my heart. “It’s time now. Take off and fly.” But like a timid bird who has never flown, I sit uneasy, unsure of what I’ll do once in flight.
And will I regret sharing this publicly? That for now, I am changed? But maybe one of you, just one, needs to know and will somehow find comfort in it. I am still picking through rubble. And while I know that ALL is being used to fulfill His purposes–oh how I want to be used!–it is a time of searching and I think I need to rest.
I need a time of sitting on the porch swing. Of picking blackberries with juicy-mouthed children. Of listening to my husband’s concerns, dreams and ideas. Of sitting at my Savior’s feet.
Of quiet sunrises and slow days. Of walks, holding little hands, jumping on trampolines, snuggling with books, hearing hearts. Of looking into faces, sharing ideas, being still and renewing my mind.
Of listening instead of talking and a bunch more life-stuff.
It may be a bit more quiet here for a while. I’m not gone, just resting. And living. And finding myself again.
“We live in a church culture that has a dangerous tendency to disconnect the grace of God from the glory of God. Our heart resonates with the idea of enjoying God’s grace. We bask in sermons, conferences and books that exalt a grace centering on us. And while the wonder of grace is worthy of our attention, if that grace is disconnected from its purpose, the sad result is a self-centered Christianity that bypasses the heart of God.
(David Platt) as a family and I’m finding myself more convicted than ever before. Questioning, pondering and trying to see through this hazy American life that so easily blinds us to the real Jesus.