Ray and I have been saying that a lot lately, sometimes in honest shock and surprise, yet with deep appreciation.
We survived.
We have survived what has been without a doubt the worst year of both our lives.
I'm a planner, a plotter, a person who likes to be (or at least pretend to be) in control. This year as God has waded through what can only be described as a year-long torrential, mud-flooding monsoon along side me (and Ray, though I never want to speak for him, especially when it comes to how God has loved and walked with him), God has invited me to live a life that holds lightly.
For me, holding lightly involves the realization that I am in control of almost nothing and that nothing is truly mine, but God's.
No matter how much I loved God's child, I had no control.
No matter how much I initially despised the word celiac, I had no control.
When I woke up one morning this fall and found I was unable to move . . . no control.
There is an amazing film called Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, and at the climatic moment of the film, Mr. Magorium softly, sincerely and profoundly tells Molly Mahoney,
"life is an occasion; rise to it."
Let's be real, there was more than one moment this year that I sat in pouring rain, clutching so tightly to the phantom of control that my fingernails made my palms bleed. There were moments it was easier, less exhausting and painful, to be a victim of life's tragedies rather than rest in truth that God had not abandoned me.
Yet, there were moments in which I tremblingly opened everything I had and kept walking; holding lightly. Not in mindset that always assumed something else was sure to be lost (though that was sometimes the fear), but in a mindset of freedom; that even if everything was lost, even if I woke up and could not move that day, that God is truly and honestly the only thing I would ever need.
God is the only thing I will ever need and the only one who can sustain me emotionally, mentally, physically. God is the only source of life for my soul.
I walk away from this year deeply thankful that the promises of God are true. God did not abandon me. God took each and every step with me, suffered with me, sat with me and on more than one occasion breathed life back into me. I walk away from this year believing that without a doubt beauty and life is brought forth from ashes and nothingness. I walk away from this year more deeply in love with Jesus and speechlessly grateful for his love for me. I walk away from a year of near darkness and expectantly wait on the new mercies coming with the dawn of a new year.
In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;
In the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.
Psalm 5:3
For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
Zephaniah 3:17