I had really intended to blog a lot more during this process of packing and preparing. But, to be honest, I don’t really have much to say beyond, “This is hard because . . . ” and “Here’s another reason this is hard . . .” and “I feel overwhelmed and depressed about this because . . .” Not to say that I am absolutely miserable right now, but I have a lot of justified anxiety . . . a lot of misgivings. I told a friend at church yesterday that I seem to hover right at the point of tears all day everyday . . . and then we both had to cry about it.
There are just so many details. And sometimes, it really feels more than I can bear. I was fretting over yet another detail the other day when it occurred to me: this isn’t faith. It’s not stepping out in faith if all of the details and specifics are nailed down. It’s not trusting Him if I already know the whole plan. The nature of this beast is in not knowing. So, I’m trying to rest there, realizing that I agreed to step out in faith, and that faith means not knowing.
I stumbled across this quote last night when I was trying to find something else about Jim Elliot. I found it very encouraging, and perhaps it will meet you where you are today too.
I pray for you, that all your misgivings will be melted to thanksgivings. Remember that the shadow a thing casts often far exceeds the size of the thing itself (especially if the light be low on the horizon) and though some future fear may strut brave darkness as you approach, the thing itself will be but a speck when seen from beyond. Oh that He would restore us often with that ‘aspect from beyond,’ to see a thing as He sees it, to remember that He dealeth with us as with sons.
So today I’m having faith that one day all my misgivings will be thanksgivings.
*quote by Jim Elliot
If you want to know how good your friends are, make some bold, audacious plans, and see who sticks around.
Maybe you can tell by the deer-in-the-headlights look that Casey and I have most of the time, or the boxes that are stacking up, or the furniture that is trickling out our doors to new homes, but it’s starting to feel real around here.
We’re planning to move out of our house in eight weeks, drive to Colorado for four weeks of training, come home for two weeks of goodbyes, and then fly to Ethiopia around June 15. We haven’t purchased tickets yet; we’re still waiting for a few things to fall in place, but this is the plan.
After two years of praying and planning, I can’t believe how close we are. Continue reading
I always wanted to be a mom . . . always. I never dreamed much about a profession or a career, but I always dreamed about motherhood. When I was a little girl, I dreamed about my babies, feeding them and cuddling them, and speaking to them in what Marilynne Robinson refers to as the “maternal imperative.” As a grew older, I dreamed of my stair-stepped children sitting at my feet while I read them great literature, starting with Dickens and Twain, and moving on to Shakespeare and George Elliot. Of course, they would love and respect me, and I would be the embodiment of motherly love . . . always kind, always patient, always wise, always sympathetic. My children would be perfectly obedient and respectful. They would never run wild through public places or interrupt important conversations. Our home would be filled with peace, love, and generosity . . . basically Bob Cratchit’s family, without the debilitating poverty.
I struggle with high standards and expectations, a bit. Continue reading
Several years ago, there was a woman, just a girl really, whom I have since met, who found herself unexpectedly pregnant. Nothing about her situation was ideal, and I can only imagine the absolute terror she must have felt when she discovered her predicament. There must have been so many nights of tears, so many moments of fear. I do not know what kind of options she had, but I know that abortion of some form was available to her. I do not know why she chose life for her baby. The odds were against her in every way. Continue reading
I think I screeched through the end of 2014 with my heels dug in and my hands pushed out. Sometime around the end of November I started having a lot of fears and doubts about our plans. It’s one thing to think about all the exciting things that are ahead, but it’s another thing to realize all of the things and people we are leaving behind.
We had such a beautiful Christmas, but I think part of my fear stemmed from having no earthly idea what Christmas will look like for us next year. It’s not that my entire life is made or broken by the perfection of that one holiday, but Christmas is a time when we pull close to everything we love most, and I couldn’t do that this year without realizing that next year I’m going to be far, far away from so much of that. Continue reading