I pushed send and sat back, my stomach already turning in knots.
I closed the laptop and pushed it to the other side of the table telling myself that I would not obsess over how people reacted.
I won't do it.
But a few minutes later, the glow of the laptop illuminated my face as I looked at the list that continued to grow that told me who had received our last newsletter.
This is God's plan, this is God's plan, this is God's plan.
I keep reminding myself this over and over again because even today over chips and salsa with a very dear friend I couldn't keep my voice from shaking as I told her how desperately I long to be in Africa.
God knew when He called us to Africa what was foreboding on the calendar of 2012 for our family. He knew. And yet, He still called us, still let us proceed to this point. Because He knew somewhere in all of this mess is something that I need so desperately.
More of Him.
I need Him now more than ever before. Because y'all, at times, it feels like my whole life is crumbling right around me. Like it's slipping through the space between my fingers and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
You know when you're at the beach and your kids have built the sandcastle of all sandcastles. It's a good distance from the water but you know that tomorrow, it won't be there? You know how a few hours later you're warm and crispy, the kids have moved on to collecting seashells and then it happens.
THE wave comes. Through futile attempts you may try to dig and dig and dig to allow for a barrier of some sort from the water. A trench, anything, to divert the impending loss that the waves will bring. But it's pointless, really.
Slowly, all you've worked so hard to build slips away in one fail sweep of waves. And just like that...
it's gone.
Knowing this was all part of God's original plan and feeling contentment and peace in my heart with our current situation are two totally different things. The first one I'm okay with. The second is a daily struggle.
This summer we went on a road trip to see family and friends. For the second year in a row, Paige went with us. She'd met our friends Mandy and Micah the last time we went over and connected with Mandy right away. The three of us girls sat up into the wee hours of the morning talking and laughing while the men were being sensible and sleeping.
That night will forever be burned into my memory. Our conversation had quickly turned to relationships, dating and, for Mandy and I, the mistakes we'd made in both of those areas. Paige was confessing some of her own struggles as she strived toward purity.
Mandy and I sat on the couch and Paige sat cross-legged in the floor with a blanket over her lap, on their floral print rug, picking at the carpet lint around her.
She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes, her voice shaking.
"Jess, I know why you guys aren't in Kenya this summer, like you were suppose to be."
Tears spilled over her eyelids and ran down her cheeks.
"It's because of me. God knew I needed you here this summer."
I think about that night and it nearly takes my breath away. That was two weeks before she died. Little did she know that she was speaking words of prophecy.
But now, she's gone. Our plans and goals have crumbled. The thing we've been working toward for nearly two years (and planning and praying about for nearly 4 years) seems like a lofty, far-off dream and I'm struggling to see the glory of God in any of it.
I'm left surrounded by mess, heartache and grief. The kind that takes you by surprise and you wonder if you'll be able to hold it together through the rest of your conversation so you can slip into the safety of an empty room and cry.
And yet I know that in the midst of all of this the Lord is waiting, calling, desiring me to come and just lay it all before Him.
He's waiting.
I'm hesitant.
I'm desperate to feel His presence and yet I'm just not sure I'm ready to submit myself to the One who built me up and then allowed me to fall and our world to crumble.
The song "Steady My Heart" by Kari Jobe has spoken to me over and over and over again, especially the chorus.
Even when it hurts,
Even when it's hard,
Even when it all just falls apart.
I will run to you,
'Cause I know that you are
Lover of my soul
Healer of my scars
You steady my heart
You steady my heart
I know He will steady my heart if I will just allow myself to have more of Him and less of my own self pity and sorrow. If will allow Him to overshadow my grief, my disappointment, my fear of what our future might hold.
More of Him. That's exactly what I need to steady my heart.
I closed the laptop and pushed it to the other side of the table telling myself that I would not obsess over how people reacted.
I won't do it.
But a few minutes later, the glow of the laptop illuminated my face as I looked at the list that continued to grow that told me who had received our last newsletter.
This is God's plan, this is God's plan, this is God's plan.
I keep reminding myself this over and over again because even today over chips and salsa with a very dear friend I couldn't keep my voice from shaking as I told her how desperately I long to be in Africa.
God knew when He called us to Africa what was foreboding on the calendar of 2012 for our family. He knew. And yet, He still called us, still let us proceed to this point. Because He knew somewhere in all of this mess is something that I need so desperately.
More of Him.
I need Him now more than ever before. Because y'all, at times, it feels like my whole life is crumbling right around me. Like it's slipping through the space between my fingers and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
You know when you're at the beach and your kids have built the sandcastle of all sandcastles. It's a good distance from the water but you know that tomorrow, it won't be there? You know how a few hours later you're warm and crispy, the kids have moved on to collecting seashells and then it happens.
THE wave comes. Through futile attempts you may try to dig and dig and dig to allow for a barrier of some sort from the water. A trench, anything, to divert the impending loss that the waves will bring. But it's pointless, really.
Slowly, all you've worked so hard to build slips away in one fail sweep of waves. And just like that...
it's gone.
Knowing this was all part of God's original plan and feeling contentment and peace in my heart with our current situation are two totally different things. The first one I'm okay with. The second is a daily struggle.
This summer we went on a road trip to see family and friends. For the second year in a row, Paige went with us. She'd met our friends Mandy and Micah the last time we went over and connected with Mandy right away. The three of us girls sat up into the wee hours of the morning talking and laughing while the men were being sensible and sleeping.
That night will forever be burned into my memory. Our conversation had quickly turned to relationships, dating and, for Mandy and I, the mistakes we'd made in both of those areas. Paige was confessing some of her own struggles as she strived toward purity.
Mandy and I sat on the couch and Paige sat cross-legged in the floor with a blanket over her lap, on their floral print rug, picking at the carpet lint around her.
She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes, her voice shaking.
"Jess, I know why you guys aren't in Kenya this summer, like you were suppose to be."
Tears spilled over her eyelids and ran down her cheeks.
"It's because of me. God knew I needed you here this summer."
I think about that night and it nearly takes my breath away. That was two weeks before she died. Little did she know that she was speaking words of prophecy.
But now, she's gone. Our plans and goals have crumbled. The thing we've been working toward for nearly two years (and planning and praying about for nearly 4 years) seems like a lofty, far-off dream and I'm struggling to see the glory of God in any of it.
I'm left surrounded by mess, heartache and grief. The kind that takes you by surprise and you wonder if you'll be able to hold it together through the rest of your conversation so you can slip into the safety of an empty room and cry.
And yet I know that in the midst of all of this the Lord is waiting, calling, desiring me to come and just lay it all before Him.
He's waiting.
I'm hesitant.
I'm desperate to feel His presence and yet I'm just not sure I'm ready to submit myself to the One who built me up and then allowed me to fall and our world to crumble.
The song "Steady My Heart" by Kari Jobe has spoken to me over and over and over again, especially the chorus.
Even when it hurts,
Even when it's hard,
Even when it all just falls apart.
I will run to you,
'Cause I know that you are
Lover of my soul
Healer of my scars
You steady my heart
You steady my heart
I know He will steady my heart if I will just allow myself to have more of Him and less of my own self pity and sorrow. If will allow Him to overshadow my grief, my disappointment, my fear of what our future might hold.
More of Him. That's exactly what I need to steady my heart.
