Saturday, October 1, 2011

A Story Continued

There are seemingly random moments when I am drawn backwards through my days and thoughts and feelings and rantings preserved here. In black and white. For my memories. For your indulgence. That word indulgence chosen with the best of intentions. With sincerity, not sarcasm.

Today is one of those seemingly random days where my past called out to me and I went looking for its voice. I found it. It's in all of these writings. But one in particular caught my eye this morning. Made me realize that the reason HolySpirit draws me back is so I can update a story still unfolding. No story is ever complete. Is it?

Four months ago I lamented about change. Change that made my heart gasp. Out of fear. Out of hurt. Out of not understanding. Out of the unexpected and unprepared. It made my fingers feel like they weren't strong enough to hold on. Made my heart wonder if I really had followed HisVoice. If I'd heard correctly or just listened long enough. Long enough to assume what I thought I needed and then run off to do what I thought best.

These are the words that were gripping my heart on that day:

"Too many questions swirling around. Not enough answers."

And life went on.

This same change lament stirred my heart a month later. So I did then what I'm doing today. I unfolded the story as it stood on that day. These are the words that HolySpirit spoke to me--helping to move me forward on that month-later-day; words that stirred hope from what I didn't understand when I lamented:

"Love cannot be forced, it must be chosen.
And a heart is not yours simply because it lives with you
or shares your name
or even has history attached to you.
A heart is won through pursuit and wooing."

And now.

Six weeks have just been marked off the calendar. Of high school classes taught from a building, not my home. Of lunches packed the night before, instead of when his belly stirs, usually around noon. Of  student cafeterias instead of our kitchen table. Of morning alarms and commutes to and from. Of flexible days replaced by bell schedules. Of daily discipline unknown or imagined. Of physical discipline that is building a man; building strength, power and character. Of the foundation that is built for the sport he loves not on the field with bat and ball but in the gym, through sweat and circuits. And of adaptation to a lifestyle that was foreign and even scary. For both of us. Of him stepping out and me letting go. Of listening to my 'knower' and obeying what God had called us to. And then having the courage to say 'yes'. Yes is really all that's required when God calls. I usually find it's the hardest part.

And now.

Four months have ticked by for her and for us. God spoke space. At least I believed He did then. I still do believe that now. Sometimes space is what God needs so we'll get out of His way. Stop trying to control what He wants to change. And change has happened. Somewhere along the way change happened. Smiles have replaced frowns. Light has swallowed up darkness. Hugs abound. Fingers reach out to hold mine. A glance is given and not missed. I see change even though I don't fully understand how it happened. But do we ever really understand the metamorphosis that takes place in that cocoon when an unseemly caterpillar goes into hibernation only to emerge a beautifully exquisite butterfly?

I want to believe that God works when we are willing to temporarily let go. I'm watching. I'm listening. I'm asking. Doubt wants to speak--wants me to listen to [him] instead of believe in HIM.

But I see change. And that is what I'm choosing to nurture. With eyes wide open, not from fear, but from the understanding that He gave them to me so I could watch, and see. With ears attuned not by a desire to catch untruth but to listen to a heart and help lead it, always loving it. With arms open, wider than they were before, because space taught me something. That it should always only be temporary, never permanent. And that arms were never created with the intent to push away out of rejection or misunderstanding but to take in and speak love without words.

And so, for now, this is a story continued.

And I am confident of this, that He who began a good work will carry it on to completion until the day of Jesus Christ.  [Phillipians 1:6]


  1. WOW! Proud of you for doing the hard thing. That speaks more loudly of love than holding on when it's time to let go a little. In my opinion, this slow process has been the hardest part of being a mom to my boys.

    love you,
    Rebecca Gates

  2. A story continued. You could do a whole series on your blog like this. It could be its own blog. So much possibility.

    Thankful that God changes us. Us, meaning the collective us. As in, He is just as faithful to work in the hearts of those around me as He is in mine. You are witnessing that. So neat.