Sometimes you just know ... deep, deep down in the soul. In the hidden places of the heart there is a knowing so vague that cannot even be formed into coherent thoughts, much less formulated into words. Sometimes you know but cannot fully acknowledge even to yourself that you know ... and yet ,when it comes to pass, you know that you have known that it would all along.
Sometimes you just know ...
There was some part of me that knew as I drove past that house every morning on my way to teach ... it's white frame glimmering in the fog, green and rolling pastures surrounding the yard. The house seem to smile, and my heart knew it was a place where good things would happen. It was a good home ... for while I lived there, a baby boy came into my life, made me a mother and changed me forever for the better. And somehow, years before I ever unpacked the first box and hung the first picture on the walls, I knew that the house on the bayou would be mine.
Sometimes you just know ...
There was some part of me that knew the moment I walked into the room that this lady standing before me was a friend to keep. I was new to town ... 6 months pregnant with two small boys clinging to my hands, and an absent husband who was busy preparing to go fight in a war across the ocean. But her smile seemed to light up the room, and suddenly I didn't feel quite so alone. Sometimes ,looking back, I am surprised that she's my friend ... we have so little in common, yet over the years we have shared so much, mainly a love for Christ which has bonded us as sisters forever. And somehow, even as we exchanged our names with a smile, I knew that Josephine was going to be a cherished friend.
Sometimes you just know ...
There was some part of me that knew as I said goodbye on that cold February morning that it was the last goodbye. I don't quite know how, but I already knew deep down ... otherwise, why would I have cried for thirty miles down the highway, sobbing until my eyes were so blurred with tears that I couldn't see the road before me and my chest heaved so that it hurt to even breathe? The end had come ... though not at all when or how I expected, and the grief before the storm ever even started was nearly unbearable. Yet somehow, even as I drove away with him standing there on the driveway and me not yet knowing why my heart ached so much, I already knew that there would be joy again.
Sometimes you just know ...
There was some part of me that knew the job would one day be mine. I was scared to apply for the position, to move into a career that was not familiar to me. I was not sure it was even what I wanted to do, and yet it seemed to be perfectly suited for me as well. The morning of the interview I wore red, to boost my confidence. I wore the same perfume my grandmother had always worn ... it felt like a hug from her, encouragement from one who had also been a 4-H Extension Agent years before. And somehow, when a few days later the call came in offering me the job as 4-H Agent, I already knew that I would enjoy the experience.
Sometimes you just know ...
There was some part of me that knew just by reading the words he had written. I can't say how I knew but I knew very strongly that this was the man God had revealed to me as a result of my prayers ... the man I had asked him to show me, the kind of man who was worth waiting for, the kind of man worth marrying. I read his profile and knew ... this was a man devoted to his Savior, active and seeking in his relationship with Christ, humble and true. I knew that he was exactly who he had written, and so very much more.
I knew from the beginning when I first read his honest words, "I don't know that I am ready to date at this point, but I know that one day I hope to be married again."
I knew the first time I heard his voice on the other end of the telephone ... and it felt familiar, like coming home.
I knew the first time I looked into his hazel eyes ... and saw that charming sparkle and shimmer and zest for life.
I knew the night he suggested we were already more than just friends ... and then he asked if he could pray with me.
I knew the first time he held my hand, the first time he kissed me and then second first kiss that we shared.
I knew when he brought to me three roses on Valentine's Day ... yellow roses with a bright flame of red on the tip of each petal, a "Dream Come True" rose for a friendship turning into love. Three roses ... a signifcant number, for in our relationship there had always been three, God with us.
Before I even knew, my heart has always known ... that this man was given to me and I was given to him. Certainly this was not of our own choosing and somehow beyond our control ... and yet I wouldn't have it any other way.
There are just fifty days remaining ... Fifty days until we recite our vows. Fifty days until we join our lives together forever. Fifty days ... that's all there is to go. Then we will begin something new. And my heart is trembling with a bit of anxiety for I am fearful. Fearful of moving forward, fearful of blending two families, fearful of failing at a second chance, but mostly just fearful of the unknown. And yet ...
Somehow I already know ... it's going to be a wonderful life.
For it will not just be the two of us ... there will be three, God with us.
"...and they will call His name Emmanuel, which means God with us." (Matthew 1:23)
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Since getting engaged a little over two weeks ago, I've experienced a little fear... well, actually quite a bit of fear. I am fearful of being unprepared for marriage, fearful of failing at a second marriage, fearful of not being the kind of wife my new husband will need, fearful of not being able to handle various aspects of blended family life, fearful of moving to a new town, fearful of changing jobs, fearful of being abandoned by a man I love yet again ... basically, I am fearful of the unknown. Additionally, I have been trying to prepare for my first ever speaking engagement for God, and finding that I am fearful in this as well ... fearful of failing God
As I have thought about and processed through these fears, God graciously brought to my remembrance this essay that I wrote nearly 2 years ago. He reminded me that a life that is lived in fear is not really a life that is lived well. I want to live my life well and bring much glory to God ... so let me not linger and dwell on my fears. Rather, let me live my life in such a way that I am bold and courageous, stepping out in faith, trusting that God holds me in the palm of His mighty hand and that He will be ever faithful to give me everything I need to live my life without fear.
November 18, 2008
I have this homeschooling friend who recently became a single mother. She wrote about how she was looking for ways to bring in extra money so that she could continue to stay home full time rather than put her children into school and return to work. I read those words and paused for a second, wondering if I had not tried hard enough to figure out a way to continue to be home with my own kids. After all, putting the children into school wasn't part of my dream for this life. I wanted to admire my friend for her strong desire to continue to live out her life's dream. But as I reread the words, I noticed something else there ... FEAR. I realized that she seemed to be fearful. Maybe she was fearful of all the changes in her life now, or perhaps she was simply fearful of the public school system. I can't say exactly what her fears might have been, but I recognized her fearful state of mind.
I know all about fear. I have done many things in my life based on fear, including choosing my college degree. I knew what a teacher did and it was comfortable to imagine myself doing the same sort of work. I was fearful of choosing a different career ... what if I failed at that job, or didn't like it after I already earned the degree. And so, I chose the safe route. I became a teacher. Oddly enough, once I was in the classroom, I didn't really enjoy the work. I adore children, and I love learning. I do not, however, like attempting to teach a classroom of 25 pupils. And yet, for so long, I was fearful of doing anything else because of the unknown aspect.
I had so many fears.
I was fearful of moving away from my hometown. What if no one else liked me? What if all these people from my small little community like me because of who my family happens to be or because we go to church together?
I was fearful of putting my kids into public school for a myriad of reasons. What if my kids were teased or bullied? What if they had a bad teacher? What if they didn't get the best education? What if we lived in a school district that wasn't great?
I lived my life in fear. It wasn't a debilitating fear. I functioned fairly normally on a daily basis. But my deep-seated fears drove all of my decisions.
For my entire married life, I was extremely fearful of Matt leaving me. During that awful summer and fall when my marriage was ripping apart at the seams, I tried as hard as I could to keep him from leaving, to convince him to stay with me and the kids. Looking back, I can see that it was fear that drove how I responded to him. Nothing I did worked, and as it turned out, that great fear of mine came to pass. But ... and bear with me on this because it is hard to explain ... when he uttered those words, "I want a divorce. I want out of this marriage." there was this click in my heart. At that very moment, the biggest part of the fear was gone. The fear didn't totally go away at that moment and there were some times in the months ahead when I was extremely fearful. Yet, at that moment, it was as if deep down in my heart I knew I would survive this. This thing I had been fearing had actually happened and I hadn't fallen over dead.
I also knew that I was going to have swim or I would sink ... so right then and there, in that remote cabin in North Carolina, I made the decision to swim for Paige rather than to sink for Matt.
Let me make one thing clear ... I would have sunk WITH Matt. I would have fought for our marriage forever, with him fighting right next to me. But when he wanted out, when he refused to give me any hope of reconciliation, when he gave up the fight for us, then I began to refuse to sink for him. (I hope that makes sense. It's not a decision that I ever thought I'd have to make. However, we all know that a marriage is made up of two people ... and sadly when one person bails out of the marriage, the other will not be able to keep the marriage floating by themselves.)
Since that time, I've had to make a lot of decisions. I decided to return to work. Six weeks later, I decided to change careers. There have been other decisions, but these were the first big two. Making these and other big decisions has done several important things for me:
I've gained confidence in God and in His guidance offered to me. As my trust in Him has increased, my fear has decreased. I don't live in unhealthy fear anymore.
Those decisions were incredibly tough to make, but in the long run each one has helped me to move on in my life, process the grief and begin to refocus on my blessings. Learning to trust the Lord to help me make wise and good decisions has helped me to overcome the fear and to empower myself through Him.
I read an interesting quote tonight: We must give up the life we dreamed of in order to have the life that is before us.
No ... this isn't at all the life I dreamed of or planned for myself and my kids. I have lost a lot of my personal dreams ... dreams that I held dear to my heart. I no longer homeschool. I probably won't have the opportunity to live in a wide variety of places or travel the nation/world with as much ease as I did as a military spouse. I'm no longer a wife, serving my family. I am a single mom, and it is an incredibly tough job.
And yet, I can't sit around moaning about my life now. If I did that, I would not only have lost what I had then, I would be losing what I have now as well.
I know that the Lord does not intend for us to divorce our spouses. I would never ever recommend it to anyone. But it happened and with it my life changed. I could continue to sit in one spot, clinging to the little things of the past I could continue to grasp. Or I could step out in faith toward God and give myself fully to Him, even though I knew it would mean some dramatic changes. I'm glad I chose the latter, for even though life today certainly isn't a bed of roses, there is far too much right in my life for me not to embrace it with a heart of thanksgiving.
The thing about life is that it goes on every day. Good days, bad days, dark days, happy days ... life goes on. Joyous seasons, sad seasons, seasons of confusion ... life goes on. And really, when it boils down to the nitty-gritty day in and day out life, I'm incredibly blessed.
Every day I wake up to 3 beautiful children, who cause me to laugh and smile and occasionally pull my hair out. I have a cozy house with a beautiful view, a good job that pays me enough money to cover the bills without having to stress too much. My minivan is able to get me to work and home again every evening. The dog loves me and hates the cat, and the cat loves me and hates the dog ... that in itself reminds me that life is pretty much as it should be.
Day in and day out , life goes on. And, until the day I die, my life will go on. I can't choose much of what will happen to me while I'm living. But I can choose to live this life with a smile and a determination to love those around me. I can choose to enjoy every day. I can choose to be thankful for the blessings (both big and small) that touch my life. I can choose to wake up every morning and embrace life that day ... even if it is different from all the days before it. And, through Christ, I can live my life without fear.
Don't panic. I'm with you. There's no need to fear for I'm your God. I'll give you strength. I'll help you. I'll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you. (Isaiah 41:8)