It’s been one year.
I blinked and another 365 days have come and gone.
Most people do their yearly review in January, but for me, October always seems to mark a year.
This time, last year, we were reeling from an unexpected job loss, followed by an immense leap of faith in moving to a new and unknown type of career. The rapid death of a dearly loved one last fall still has us feeling our way down that unfamiliar path of gone. A whole slew of “we thought…” and “what about…” and “what now?” rolled around in our conversations.
I’ve seen the Lord answer far too many prayers to list here – written and unwritten, spoken and unspoken; He’s grown me in ways I didn’t want and didn’t know I needed.
Maturity, humility and faithfulness have abounded, and yet are still sorely lacking.
Feeling the continual emptiness of being a vessel poured out, I’m overwhelmed, exhausted, and searching Groupon for cabins in Oklahoma to hunker down in.
I cry at the drop of the hat, begging for rest, while simultaneously feeling my heart upended and my hands lifted in glorious adoration of a Father who breathes life into me and sustains me in this seemingly never-ending race.
Isn’t this where true life is found? In losing mine and being made wholly dependent on the One who sustains?
The typical question when you feel overwhelmed is for people to ask what can be taken off of your plate, or how you can manage your time better…
But what if the answer is nothing?
For me, it’s not simply a calendar full, but a calendar lacking.
And in the lacking, so many things fill up.
It’s a giving up of “me time” so we can effectively have “you time” as you’re struggling and hurting.
It’s the beginning mark on a long, winding path that I never saw myself on, but going in sheer faith knowing that everything I do now is for later; even if the later is years from now.
It’s the pruning that occurs over and over. The vicious lops that take off completely what ought not be there while the hard, continued growth is happening in an unseen place with fruit that has not yet made its appearance.
It’s the breaking and upending of every hope and dream, wish and comfort.
It’s the mustard seed lying on good soil, anxiously awaiting the anticipated and much needed rain for it to grow into the faith that can move mountains.
If I have but one life to live, I want it to be a life lived wholly for Him, fixing my eyes on Jesus, no matter how insurmountable the path seems.
For when I am weak, He is strong and what is impossible with me, it is possible with Him, far more than all I could possibly think or ask.
– Laurel Ewing, Women’s Ministry Director