But God Gave Us Feet

Dear Junior, 

Change is on the horizon.  It is imperceptible in some ways, and as clear as the shifting tides in others. We are moving toward it steadily, and even though our daily life looks pretty much the same as every other average day in weeks and recent months past, we are approaching the top of the hill -- I can feel it.  I just have no idea what lies on the other side.  We are about to find out, though.

We took a little rest from the journey over the last weekend.  We were (very thankfully) able to take our third and final trip to DC to attend a wedding, and we got to see lots of friends (both mine and Rascal's) over those three days, both in DC and in Philly.  It was a wonderful little vacation, and a gift from God: these weddings and trips to DC have been like "forced" breaks for our little family, and they have been great sources of quality time together.  And when we returned on Memorial Day, we enjoyed a nice little picnic on the grass by the water outside our apartment.  Pretty perfect.  

It was a taste of that which I am seeking:  more moments with my family, time spent with our neighbors, enjoying the goodness of creation, replacing rush with reflection, replacing speed with stillness. 

Today it's back to reality, and difficult choices are coming up.  Difficult, worthy choices.  Remember how I was telling you about those, my little?  Decision time is ever nearer, even though I can't pinpoint when the exact day will come.  I still don't know for sure what we shall do, but ... I'm finding that the more I analyze and discuss the options (or lack thereof) with friends and confidantes, the clearer the answers are becoming.  Perhaps this is the way God is revealing Himself to us.  (Or maybe not, which is why we keep praying for clarity.  Lawyers are good at fooling themselves.)  

I think I know which way the wind is blowing, and it feels like I'm being swept away into some other ocean entirely -- not the lake I'd planned for, not the pond I had anticipated, not the river I'd dreamed of.  No, we're being swept into an ocean -- something we totally did not expect.  

Part of me is clinging to the shore of the lake/pond/river of my dreams with a grip so tight that my fingers are white through the nails and sore.  I had built my dinghy for the pond, I had prepped my canoe for the river.  I had perfected a little speedboat for the lake.  None are suitable for the ocean -- but for the last decade (and in some ways, two-plus decades, depending on what you count) I slaved over them -- so I want to use them.  Otherwise won't they be going to waste?  Then what will all those years of sacrifice have been for?  And then there's the other problem:  How am I supposed to confront the ocean?  My dinghy, canoe, and little speedboat are no match for the ocean.  

But God gave us feet.  And He may yet, with His help, help us to walk upon the waters.  The prospect frightens me, but it also awakens my soul.  

Love, 

Mommy