My life has been so empty. It seems so fitting. I mean we move two thousand miles into a life we have once known, but don't seem to know anymore. Two of our chickadees have flown the nest. The third is graduating early and getting ready to fly herself. I haven't been able to find what my next step is. And to top it off ... there is no snow.
Transitions are hard. And a few transitions at the same time are extremely hard.
I have tried to remain close to God. But I can't seem to find how to do that. I experience God in so many ways, and all those ways are affected by all this transition stuff. My belief in God hasn't wavered. But my joy seems to be far far away.
It hasn't helped that we haven't found a church to call home. One we are completely attached to, embraced by and find our family through. It takes time.
I have always found some of my belonging through my job, because each job I have held God has sent me to. Currently, God has put me in a time of "rest" and I'm trying to embrace exactly what that means. And I'm trying hard to trust. So in the meantime I'm there for Courtney, and being a supportive wife to Duane.
But there seems to be a lie that hovers over me too. "I have no purpose anymore." "God can't use me anymore, what I came to do is done. So I'm done." Before you give me your advice and tell me that it is a lie from the enemy. I know! But let me explain something to you. Life as I have known for the last decade is now in a new place. Life as I have known for the past twenty-two years and have poured every last ounce of everything I am into is now coming to an end. I'm going around the house, not having a mess to clean up after, not having someone to drive, not having drama to walk anyone through and trying to find what I have now to do. And I just hear "rest". And for me it is almost like hearing ... "You're done."
And it hurts. It's lonely. I feel as if I'm walking in a cloud. And I'm lost.
And with every thing I have left I hold onto the truth I know. That God hears my tears. He sees my pain. And his hand is over me as I wonder. I hold onto hope that God will pull me out of this pit that seems to get larger and larger.
And to add salt in the wound ... it's Christmas. A time of great joy, arising hope, peace to reign and love to come. It's what I believe and what I know to be true. Yet my feelings aren't experiencing what my belief knows.
And yet God sees.
In the midst of service, I handed over my aching heart, and all the tears. And in exchange God handed over a baby He sent over 2000 years ago. And He entrusts me with him. My hands that were once empty are filled with life once again.
What does this mean? I don't know exactly. But I know that this Christmas I have a baby to hold onto, one to love, one to pour myself into. One that I can find my purpose in. One that will complete me.
Happy Birthday Jesus. Thank you for life restored through your coming!