It’s been over a week since we made our radical move. It still doesn’t feel real.
I keep thinking I’m on an extended vacation at my folks house when in reality I’m never going back to the home I once knew.
Right now, I feel sort of homeless. It’s a weird feeling.
I wish I could extrapolate the emotions and thoughts running around in my mind, but anytime I try to grasp them they slip away from me like when I used to go searching for salamanders. Those little creatures are slippery little buggers.
I guess when I do think about what I’ve left behind, if I’m being honest at times it makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry. The comfort of what I once knew is gone. And a part of me grieves and wants it back… while the other part of me is holding onto the hope that’s ahead. This hope–I’m both excited and terrified of what I’m about to face.
The truth is, I absolutely KNOW with the deepest fiber of my being that there’s something deep and purposeful and timely that God is calling us to. Something uniquely orchestrated by Him that I can only see glimpses of right now. It’s like a mist or a vapor–seeing a semblance of something tangible but every time you try to grasp at it you’re left with nothing but air.
God made it clear to me that “you will know when you get there.” All the questions I have that I’m wrestling with. All the dreams and ideas I’m wondering will come about. All the “what if’s” that feel overwhelming. It’s all going to be figured out once we get there.
Where’s there? Emmett, Idaho.
We plan on leaving for Idaho beginning of October and when we arrive we will be living in our 41-ft RV for likely a month or two. Hopefully we will be able to move into one of the smaller homes during the winter on this 50-acre ranch property that is going to be rebuilt into a Christian events/retreat center. In the meantime, I’m at my folks, working and helping with the kids, waiting for my husband to come home from his 3 week retreat. I miss him so much.
This morning I was feeling the weight of everything: calling, mission, and motherhood. Grieving what I once knew and feeling a bit shaky about what’s truly ahead. I drove to a canyon area by my parents house. There was a small clearing that I made my way into, carefully watching my step (didn’t want a rattlesnack to surprise me) and looked out across the vastness of the mountains covered with pine trees with the sparkling lake below. Tears stung my eyes as wrestled with what I was holding onto. Feeling exhausted, empty, and unsure of my ability to stay strong and moving forward on this uncertain journey, an eagle appeared, circling over me four times, slowly and effortlessly in the light wind. I could see her face–stoic and calm, but attentive to her surroundings. She never flapped, not even once, as she circled and then flew down further into the canyon towards the water below.
And I remembered this verse: “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31, NIV)
Immediately I felt a strength coursing inside me. Renewing me. And right then I knew… He would enable me to soar in this season without struggling, flapping wings as long as I renew my strength in Him.
Suddenly the clouds broke and a ray of sunshine enveloped me. A hug from God Himself which lasted a full minute before hiding again in the cloudy stretch of sky. Then, I saw a symbol of His promise, which broke me in the best way. Through the sheer clouds where the sun just showed its face graced a small rainbow of color–a pale pink, mandarin and teal. Again, this only lasted a minute before the clouds became a solid piece of white cotton candy once again.
Sometimes we miss these tangible pieces of hope, evidence of God’s promise in the next season. We succumb it to chance or simply don’t follow the Spirit’s leading to discovery it.
But something I believe with every fiber of my being is this: God isn’t holding out on you. And He has a beautiful plan and purpose in store for you. You must hold onto the hope that’s ahead, believing in His promise that He will not leave you. He will guide you. There are gifts waiting for you in the near future.
Wiping my eyes and standing up to leave, I stretched my hands out to Him, head tilted up–praising Him for His promise and believing in the hope that lies ahead.