I want to sit here and write some wise-sounding words, but I have none. As the days pass I am growing increasingly, brutally aware of my own naivety. Today I type this in front of an open window in a white and grey bedroom on a comforter that looks like the trees from a book my mom read me when I was little. Mike Mains and the Branches plays in the background (second album).
Lately I find myself missing India and Nepal more than ever. I think it’s the mountains my habitat is surrounded by for the first time since backpacking through Asia. While reading my Bible on our second day here and sipping some coffee on the back patio, it occurred to me how much peace the mountains have always brought me. When I look back on my life, the Lord always brought me to the mountains after a season in the desert, and it was there that new life began. In the past I always brought that fresh outlook back to Miami from the mountains, but now the rocky outline hemming me in furnishes the city I’m learning to call “home.”
Whenever my mother-in-love Liz and I go out, I try to spot Big Bear. I’m learning to recognize the peak more each day.
My writing, at least that which is intended for public reading, is increasingly sporadic these days. I don’t even remember when I began this post, but now it has been three weeks since Jonny and I arrived in the sunny California foothills, and we are finally about to get our new licenses. Once I see my face plastered onto that piece of plastic which will forever look like a toy to me, I think it will all become more real. For now it still feels somewhat like a holiday vacation.
The Lord seems intent that I not work during this season, but instead focus on my studies (which goodness knows needs some TLC after a monumental hurricane heralded a cross-country move, all in the same semester). While it was a blow to my pride, I’m so grateful that’s what He has for me right now. As much as my millennial self desires to be “self-sufficient” and all that, my spirit needs rest. These past few weeks doing life with the family here, getting to learn how to best love my husband from the one who raised him, have been the sweetest blessing.
I think I tend to want to run more than is good for me, and honestly more than I am yet able to. Contrary to my pride as well have been the Sunday morning sermons teaching me to yield to the Lord in ways which before were close enough I thought I could manage them. I never needed to yield my job, because it was always there. My school was never an issue of control, because I always naturally excelled. Until September. With Hurricane Irma came a serious drop in academic performance. For once, not only were my classes a serious academic struggle, but after returning from the evacuation I was displaced due to a lack of running water at the apartment we were renting. For two weeks, we lived at the church we were engaged in ministry at, where I tried to get back on top of things while realizing slowly, somewhat subconsciously, that Jonny and I were never going to return to our little North Miami apartment the same way. A week into our stay at CMB, on the side of the bridge on a Sunday afternoon, walking to get a Subway sandwich, he asked me what I thought about moving to California. And there was peace, transcending any ounce of understanding I thought I had.
Three weeks later, I sit in a Starbucks sweetly familiar to my husband, and utterly foreign to me. The semester is almost over, and if I pass all my classes, it is only by the grace of God and skin of my teeth (prayers appreciated there). At 6:30 AM he shared a croissant with me here before heading to work. And just like every other season before this, I am confused as to what God has for us here, but I am so grateful to be here.
It’s a season of learning what it means to truly rest. Of trusting that the Lord will work out every detail for those who are faithful to Him. Of accepting that no element of life will go as I planned. Of recognizing that I am such a small element of His grand scheme, but such an important one to Him. Of learning what it means to truly dwell in an attitude of joy.
Until next time,