But I’ve been here before. Two years ago I wrote a post and titled it something quite close to that. Two years ago I saw no silver lining. Two years ago I saw no light through my tunnel.
Two years ago all I could see was some place I never thought I would be. All I could feel were the feelings I never thought I could feel. All I could hear was everything I thought I knew and felt comforted by getting hit by a bomb.
But I couldn’t see turning 19.
I couldn’t see dance parties dressed like Peter Pan with a room full of pirates. I couldn’t see the spontaneous sleepovers I’d have.
I couldn’t see the anointed worship nights.
I couldn’t see playing guitar hero with someone from my favorite band growing up.
I couldn’t see recording the most insane song of my life.
I couldn’t see writing a song like that in the first place.
I couldn’t see someone believing in me enough to record it with me.
I couldn’t see anyone passionate enough about being my friend to make sure I found a whole community of them.
I couldn’t see in what ways God would grow me and how He would set me free.
I couldn’t see the sunsets I would chase and I couldn’t see the dark chocolate almonds I would become addicted too.
I couldn’t see the songs I’d yet to write and how strong I would grow as a performer.
I couldn’t see being invited to 3 Nashville weddings and singing at one of them.
I couldn’t see finally taking the step of learning how to drive and then playing a gig with my instructor.
I couldn’t see Jon Foreman putting on my hat in the middle of a show.
I couldn’t taste my discovery of oven roasted sweet potatoes and the miracle of cocoa powder filled chocolate almond milk.
I couldn’t see hummingbirds.
This feeling right now is familiar. I’ve felt it only a couple of times…because it’s not your typical sadness. It’s the feeling of everything you’ve found to be home crumbling…and you’re doing everything in your power not to crumble right along with it. And that’s your mistake. It’s not in your power. You’ll be a box of run over cookies in a second thinking that way.
It’s in His power.
So how the heck do I deal with this feeling?
When I’m so scared I think I might faint.
When I’m so exhausted I think my body might disintegrate.
When I’m so broken I almost hope it does.
I’ve got to remember this truth that has kept me alive:
"This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you where you go." Joshua 1:9
My best friend sent me that tonight. She is one of those things that came after the previous worst night of my life. She is beyond worth the tears that night, and every other night where life felt that dim.
She is just ONE thing God had in store for me I couldn’t see. There have been SO MANY things God had for me. So how is right now any different? Right now surely feels more difficult than that horrible feeling night two years ago. I can’t imagined what He has in store for me that I can’t see this time.
I might be confused and shaken and scared as hell, but God is not afraid. God is not afraid and God is right beside me. Right now. This moment.
God is here and we are still doing this the way we always have, together.
The feeling of my tired feet up against my grandmothers silky floral couch.
The comfort of a hardwood floor against my head, because it’s her hardwood floor.
The hum of the fan blowing towards the treadmill, still on from my run.
The click of the air conditioning coming; cooling this room back down.
The knowledge that everything will be okay, because God is still God.
And no matter what happens this evening, tonight I will be right back here, listening to the fan…
If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be very intelligent, read them more fairy tales.
completely feel like I’ve lost myself, and anything I believed in, and anything I hoped for. like I’m living a completely different life than just six months ago. like I’ve been trudging through a haze of tragedies in search of a home. a nomad in her own land. I don’t know who I am. and that’s more terrifying than not knowing where I’m going.