I don’t even know where to start.
These past several weeks have been an unpredictable roller coaster. Some incredible highs, some devastating lows, and a lot of jumps and dives between the two that have been so quick I find myself disoriented and struggling to process the change.
A few weeks ago, I made the following Facebook status: “I have this feeling in my chest that something big is about to break loose. And for the first time, I think we’re ready.” Last night, during a conversation with two of my best girls, I found myself laughing at that statement, both at how powerfully right I was and at how powerfully naive I was. Aubrey and Abbey and I were discussing how easy it is to be “ready.” How easy it is to tell God that we’re on board with whatever He’s got going; and with the same breath, pray that He’d just let us in on whatever He’s got going, so that we can be INFORMED and on board.
That is the camp I’m in this morning, if I may be so honest. I find myself certain of little more than the knowledge that God is at work. And, truly, I am on board with that, because I’ve been in this place before. This place where everything you’re sure of starts to unravel in front of you, and it’s painful and the ache threatens to consume you; and then, as a friend of mine put it, He really shows out in the end. I know that, no matter what the journey, God will show out in the end. He will be extravagant and lavish in pouring out unadulterated blessings that come as a result of this painfully uncertain time. And so I can be on board.
Sort of. Because while I consider myself on board, I can’t yet stop asking questions. I can’t stop hoping that, at some point soon, He’ll let me in on His big secret, He’ll show me the better way that exists in His heart for me. Because I had a short-term plan, and it was a pretty good one. Josh does nursing school, I teach at Imagine, and we keep building toward our happily ever after. And while we’re still by all means building toward the happily ever after bit, the means are changing entirely. That vision I had of the next year of our lives has been entirely leveled, and nothing safe to live in has been rebuilt yet. And God keeps reminding me that whether or not I’m safe has nothing to do with whether my perception of our future changes, and everything to do with the fact that our future is in His hands. But that’s not how we live in America, so it still feels hard. It feels like paradigms I’ve spent 26 years shaping are being reshaped in front of me, and that’s awesome and terrifying at the same time. On the awesome side, it feels like anything is possible. And on the terrifying side, it feels like anything is possible.
I have no idea what any part of my life is going to look like six months from now. And the interesting part for me is the realizing that I’ve NEVER had any idea what any part of my life is going to look like six months from now–the only difference between today and thirty days ago is that now, I know it.