I linger over coffee while my girls eat cereal. Laughter erupts round the table as the oldest one rattles off her thoughts in full slang and my heart bursts wide open in the sheer happiness of the moment. Laughter is medicine for the soul and we drink it up without needing the spoonful of sugar.
I watch them from the window after they leave to catch the bus and I know they’re stronger than I like to think. I am keenly aware that when they were formed in my womb, God gave them extra measures of fierceness, of strength, of resilience. He knew their days before I ever traced their faces and whatever He has called our family to, He has prepared us all for.
We are a unit, knit together by matching genes and bound up in Jesus and what He brings us to He will bring us through. Even when the going through is searing to the skin.
The girls turn to see me watching after them and they smile, too shy to let their friends see them wave. But they are mine and I am theirs and we take the hill together, whatever the next hill so happens to be.
After a few weeks of time spent in the dark, the parts of me that felt empty just a day ago are brimming with the fullness of joy. I waste time on the porch seeping in the goodness of God and wake up to the truth that seeping in goodness is not wasted time. It is sacred time. And I give thanks for His goodness to me, for His giving and His taking away.
Ann says that all new life labors out of the very bowels of darkness and in my bones I know this to be true. A week in the dark is breathing life into these dry bones of mine, voices of God’s people prophesying over me, “Get up! Stand firm! Press on, you child of the Most High God! Run your race!”
So I roll a week’s worth of events and words around in my head and sift them like wheat, gathering only the truth and I savor it, tasting the bitter and the sweet.
And from the edge of the porch, I feel a gust of wind blow across my face and I am alive in the place God has given me.
If you’ve spent any time here, you know I write in real time, as the events of my life unfold. I am my truest self when I write through the process. I believe there is much power to be found in our stories and by sharing my story as it is unfolding, I do relish the idea that Satan hates it when I sit down behind this screen. In the telling of the good, the bad, and the ugly, I take the painful and sometimes shameful story that he would love to see me hide behind, and I wield it for God’s glory and my good. I hope you see that.
My desire is that when you spend time here in my online space you not feel so alone in whatever good, bad, or ugly you are living. I pray that my mess encourages you to cling to the Good Shepherd as I cling to Him.
And I pray that my story gives you the courage to tell your own.
And for those of you who missed it yesterday, I will be joining The Nester for 31 Days again in October. I will be writing on Marriage and Church Planting. I hope you’ll join me.
MOPS launches tomorrow- PRAY! PRAY! PRAY!