I think I’m learning that it’s the waiting place… The
place between faith and fear. And that
in the waiting place it seems to be my posture that determines my experience
here, and maybe even the length of time I remain. The fruit that comes from lessons like these isn't birthed without pain. Maybe when it takes a while to work itself out, the
lesson sticks with you longer. This year
has been so much about trusting God, knowing my identity, and walking it out.
To begin believing that a Father gives His children good gifts, and that if He
is for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:31. Our circumstances don’t
determine our identity, our future, or His plans. He is faithful to execute His will, which is
right and good. Sometimes I think he might be waiting to, for us to get out of
the way, and step in line. This year has
been a tremendous year of accomplishment.
And the funny thing is, this is the first year that I surrendered my
attempts at a plan and just waited on Him.
In the moments of waiting… Waiting on financial provision, waiting on a
place for Noah in school, waiting on relational healing, they felt like
eternities.
In retrospect, there
have been monumental changes in the past twelve short months. God has been nothing but faithful to complete
the works He’s begun. I don’t know what
the next twelve will look like, but I know that where He leads, he makes
provision. In contemplating this weekend
with the uncertainty of whether we’d get our house I mulled over God’s
faithfulness in our lives. I considered
the significant lessons that the waiting place has taught me. I remembered that Sarah did in fact, get her
promised baby. And I remembered that she
was asked to lay him down. Talk about
the waiting place… can you imagine the journey that Abraham took with his
precious promise in tow. Sometimes when
we lay down our most treasured, even dreams, God raises then up, and gives them
back.
I think that for most of my own life, I’m either praying for
a specific outcome, or just apathetic and waiting – Que Sera, Sera. After all, the future’s not ours to see. Whatever will be, will be. Lately, maybe little more Que Sera. However
this year, I think that it’s been a bit of learning a balance… of not just
asking for something I want or think that I need. And it’s not about just
throwing cares the wind, being apathetic about our future because it’s out of
our hands anyway. It’s not about throwing our cares to the wind, but about
casting them on Him… I think I missed significance of the difference. When meditating on the scripture about
casting our cares on Him, I had a really
difficult time understanding what exactly that meant.
When I was a little girl, my Dad taught me how to fish. One of my earliest, fondest memories is of
waking very early. So early I thought it was night. He made breakfast, fed me grits, eggs, and
loaded me up in the car. When we got where we were going, we loaded a boat with
a friend of my Dad’s and his son… and watched the sun come up as we cast our lines into the water in hopes that fish would bite them. I remember docks- in Florida, in Chesapeake,
practicing the cast. Really, throwing my
weight into it. At the time, it wasn't all that much weight! When you cast, you fling the line way out… But if you let
go of the pole, you’ll just be standing empty on the edge of a bank.
I think that’s part of the irony.
You throw it as far as you can, as hard as you can… but you don’t let
go.
That’s the part I missed.
I don’t think He wants us to give up on caring, on hoping. He just wants us to throw it into Him, to let
Him surround it, like the water does to the line. But I don’t think that He wants us to
disconnect. He wants the opposite. For us to trust Him to do the rest. And to trust Him with the outcome. You want a fish every time you cast the line,
but you don’t always get one. However, if you stop casting, you’ll never get one.
Brian woke up with the flu today. I had it over the weekend. He went straight to urgent care to get on
some anti-flu medicine. At 9:30 this morning
I talked with an attorney who offered me little practical hope. I threw my line
out, and remembered the One who holds my hopes. Two hours later he called
back. The title had been cleared and we
could come close. The house was ours. Just like that. I burst into tears…. It was the
first time that I really had really just broken down… It has been such a faith
journey. I had my house packed in boxes
and had the flu to keep me in bed with nothing else to think about. Not knowing where we would live was really
tough and in true Heather fashion, I broke down afterword. Which is maybe better then breaking down in
the middle of it.
Fast forward… Brian’s medicine made him sick to his
stomach. I gave him some anti-nausea
meds to counter act the other medication, and a garbage bag just in case. And then, I was just another home buyer. Instead of the agent, dressed all cute, I was
the Mom. In a pony-tail with three
coughy kids and a husband in a surgical mask (germs people.) We almost made it through the closing without
incident. And then,after multiple laps around the table Hannah spilled her
water and announced that she was poopy.
Magical moments….
But we got it. Our
house. On New Years Eve. It wasn't a long painful day of waiting after
all… Maybe it was because I finally agreed to lay it down, and learned to cast
a little better? I’ll never know. But I’ll
always remember…. This could have gone either way. In the physical anyway, in
the spirit realm, there was only one plan ever…. But in His infinite wisdom, He
let me walk near Him, lean in and hold on…I didn’t let go this time… to the
cares, but I did lay them down. Turns
out there’s a difference after all.
