It's been a long time since I've written a blog post. I don't even know if blog posts are "in" anymore. Today, I found myself thinking about our time in our city and feeling grateful. I started to write in my journal but stopped. These things are too good. Our King is too good. These things need to be shared. I hope this is an encouragement. I hope it spurs you on. I hope it opens your eyes to the kindness and majesty of our King! He has done great things! In October of 2021, I found myself in a state of deep overwhelm. I had a 6-year-old with special needs, a 4-year-old, and a 5-month-old, and we had just moved back to our home in S. Asia. Every so often, I would be doing dishes thinking of all the things on my plate, then abruptly turn off the water, slump down to the floor, and take a second to cry. A journal entry from that season reads: "'If I make my bed in the depths, You are there.' You are there, and so here we are. Deep beneath the muck of busyness, where I'm afraid I'll stay for a while. Yet, not without You. Not without pleasure and wondrous joys throughout the day. Not without seeing, feeling, hearing, smelling, and tasting that You are good. Stay with me. Lead me on. Meet me at Home and say to me, "Well done," not on my merit, but that of Your Son!" Those were desperate times. In a recent meeting with a friend, I reviewed the list of stressors during that season. The city (which is a big, over-arching category for everything from traffic, being stared at, to ketchup instead of pizza sauce). Post-partum adjustments. Adjusting back to life in our country (which, if you've ever lived the expat life, you know, is different from that first category). Visa runs. Moving to a new flat. Losing a suitcase full of many beloved items in that move. It all happened then. "And you lost an aunt, too, right?" My friend added. Yes. My parents' close friend and the only non-relative I ever called "aunt" had unexpectedly passed away. My sweet Aunt Christy with the sparkling, joy-filled blue eyes and tender, gentle, laugh-filled voice. I hadn't seen her in years, but I cried more that day than for any other friend or relative's death. I remember thinking it was strange that I would be so affected by her death. It felt like I had lost my own mother. In part, it was because of the woman that Aunt Christy was, but it was also, surely, due in part to the other little things that had been adding up. That was the first six months after our second return to our city.
In that season, I posted pictures of my growing baby and beautiful boys and talked about all the good happening around us. It wasn't fake. It wasn't ignoring reality. It wasn't all hard and bad (which, by the way, are not the same thing). There was so much beauty and goodness in that season. I thank my King for the grace He gave me to see it. That even then, in my hardest moments, I was able to come to Him. To cling to my Shepherd. To see and feel His goodness. To realize that He was at work. To trust Him. In the words of Brother Lawrence, "If I fail not, then I give G*d thanks, acknowledging that it comes from Him." As much as I failed in that season, I give thanks to Him for revealing those truths to me and sustaining me in them.
I can't say exactly when things changed. Some of them didn't. That restaurant (from which we will never order again) still makes their pizza with ketchup instead of tomato sauce. It still sometimes takes 30 minutes to travel less than a mile. My kids still eat food. But somewhere along the way, it got easier.
Our schedule normalized, as did my post-baby hormones. Our kids grew up, learned to play together, and no longer forget to sit on the potty when they have to go. I started enjoying doing the dishes (a miracle I consider to be on the same scale as the parting of the Red Sea!). All of these little changes have ushered us into a new season. Not to say hard things never happen. It's just different.
So, as I did the dishes recently, hearing the laughter of my family coming from the other room and thinking about His great gifts to our family, I knelt on the floor and cried. It struck me that it had been a while since I'd last been in that position and how vastly different the emotions were that brought me to it this time. Then, I cried more.
As you see, there's been a lot of crying in the journey we started 3&1/2 years ago. Our faithful One has brought us through them all. He's counted every one of those tears. He's been strong, good, present, and sovereign through it all. And, for the next 3&½ years, until the end of my life when He finally brings me Home, He will remain to be.
I look forward to the ways He'll deepen my understanding of His infinite character in the seasons to come. If anyone ever looks at my life and considers me faithful, let them first consider the majesty, power, worthiness, and faithfulness of the One who kept me so.
