Here, now I stand. I look and survey this life. It's ups and downs, mountains and valleys. All of the trials and joys that break and sustain us. They come in waves.
The last few months have been beyond difficult, they have pulled me to my knees and broken me apart. It was the grand finale to years of being displaced, waiting and hoping to settle, to find a home.
And home is coming.
I am excited, beyond terrified, blessed, and hopeful to announce that we are finally moving to Redding. This week.
God has opened huge doors and rained blessing over us.
We are coming home with joy and celebration.
The long season of emptying and loneliness has ended.
Spring has indeed sprung.
I am amazed at God's goodness, his provision. To credit this new transition to anything other than God's hand is to miss his opulent love, his unwavering faithfulness.
I have walked through the last few years, staring at God's face. Eye to eye, ear to ear, desperate, hungry, and constantly unsatisfied.
I have grown in my ability to trust. To rest, when hope has evaded me. I have learned to let Jesus come close and breathe when my breath has gone out.
The last few weeks, as I have doubted and grown discouraged, I have been faced with a choice; wallow or choose joy. As I delight in the goodness of God when nothing in life has changed, there is a mighty strength that sustains. Grace has met me when I was most undeserving.
I am so excited to settle. To stretch out our roots. To give my children the joy of stability, the delight of family and friends.
I am terrified to relearn my place here, to find myself, after wandering in the wilderness.
Yet, in all of this, I have learned to walk, hopeful and trusting. To rest when life comes, to laugh in chaos, and delight in the ache of waiting.
Looking forward to getting some consistency in our lives and sharing with you some of the lessons I've learned over the last four years of hardship and transition.
I may rest for a while.
Blessings to you in whatever season you find yourself.
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