I arrange my life into blocks of time and deliberately map them out on an annual calendar. Easily classified as noble and worthy, I am convinced what is planned reflects God-given assignments and family priorities. Once something is officially booked, I’m confident it will indeed happen. If I plan it, I own it.
My sequence of activities is consistently ambitious and the tempo leaves little room for spontaneous pauses. In fact, my daily prayers include a request for wisdom and the strength to faithfully run hard from one scheduled event to the next.
I mentally and physically prepare to do whatever is needed to hit deadlines and sprint across finish lines. The goal seldom changes; finish strong.
Security and self-confidence build in me because of this control over what I have planned. The drill is familiar and there’s a rush that comes from being in charge. This passionate exercise of scheduling tricks me into believing I can make my life safe, secure, and predictable.
I can make? I can make? So how foolish is this?
Oh Lord, forgive me.
My heart breaks. I’ve let fear and pride seduce me. Self is exposed. My sin is big and before me.
Convicted, I repent. I’m desperate for mercy and grace. Only through His power can I let go and be set free of this ever-present desire to be the driver.
He deliberately and not so gently disrupts the tidiness of my life. He grips the one thing I long for most and eliminates my ability to have any power over it. He places an immeasurable distance between where I am now and receiving the extravagant gift He has promised my husband and me. He leads me to the edges of impossible, where I can’t take another step without making a choice.
I humbly choose a seat in the waiting room called TRUST. I gratefully accept the portion of grace He provides each day. And then on an almost unbearably hot summer night in Haiti, I find wonder in waiting…
Journal Entry – Haiti
August 4, 2013
I’m damp. A layer of perspiration covers me and the stickiness of it is evidence this night is among the hottest of summer. Even the mountaintop altitude provides no relief.
The room is filled with blackness except for a single beam of moonlight that breaks through the corner of an uncovered window. Like a spotlight, it shines across her warm brown face. The rest of her body fades into the night. All I can see is what the light touches.
My eyes take in the curve of her nose, the length of her eyelashes and the peace in her brow. Contentment inhabits the corners of her faint smile and I mirror it in response.
Her silky curls are coated with the fragrance of Moroccan oil and several of them adhere to my neck.
The pace of my breathing slows down to mimic hers.
She uses me as her pillow and the absence of feeling in my arm erases where my body ends and hers begins. I am like a pregnant woman, who only detects the difference between her body and the child she carries when the child inside her initiates an unexpected shift.
In this moment, there is no movement. We rest as one. I can’t explain it, but I love her as if her life began in me.
All the weight of worry is gone. What’s happened before and what’s ahead doesn’t matter. I don’t try to wipe away my tears. I let them slowly roll across my cheek. Right now everything is too perfect to disturb.
I memorize what I see, how we feel, the sounds of silence, and the scents that linger around us. I soak and savor all of it as part of the process of sealing it in time.
Awe-God. Thank you for the chance to experience lavish love. Oh Lord, I feel your presence. All my trust is in you. Your plans are perfect. Your timing is perfect. I go as you go. Where you lead, I will follow.
Living to serve,