Leaps of Faith
The first time that someone asked me why I believed in God, I didn't know what to say. I was asked in a harsh, accusatory way that caught me off guard. I was eighteen at the time, a freshly-minted college student, and I couldn't come up with much outside of, "Well, because I just do. I know it's not considered intellectual or progressive or anything like that, but I believe in God." I had seen God work in other people's lives, but, at that point, I hadn't seen (rather, noticed) Him doing anything I considered Earth-shattering in mine. (Of course the old cliche "Hindsight is 20/20" is appropriate here.) It wasn't long after that He started moving in ways I couldn't overlook (but that's a story for another time).
When I think about all of the major decisions I've made in my life, I can honestly say that every single one has been a straight up blind leap of faith - I'm talking throw my hands up in the air, shrug my shoulders, leap off a cliff, and pray for Him to catch me kind of leaps (which is a big deal for someone who is deathly afraid of heights, both literal and figurative). I have so many mini-testimonies that weave together to create a greater message: He's got me.
Now I'd like to share a recent mini-testimony with you, if you'll so indulge me.
Anyone who knows me or reads my blog/posts on social media knows that suffering a miscarriage was a pivotal moment in my life. As much as I wanted to be angry and bitter and hateful, I willed myself to work through the darkness and find the good sliver somewhere in that big old ball of total suckage. It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was worth it. Since that point, I have seen God's hand in every aspect of my life.
During those dark days, I made a promise to myself that if I were to have another baby, I'd take a year off of work and stay at home and just enjoy the blessing of that baby's infancy. That was a huge thing for me. I love my work and have never considered myself to be the stay-at-home mom type, but I felt compelled by a power greater than myself to make that decision. Welp. We all know how that one turned out. Emmett arrived, I took maternity leave, came back to finish out the school year, and began my Mombbatical. Being at home with an infant and a preschooler (with a few special needs) was, at times, maddening. There were tears (mine), yelling (also mine), tantrums (still mine), and general grumpiness (YES, MINE, OKAY?) a plenty, but the good outweighed the not so good by tons. The timing really was perfect because I was able to devote a great deal of attention to Lucy and to take her to weekly Occupational Therapy appointments and other evaluations. A funny thing started to happen to me around October; I started to think to myself, "Self, I know this was supposed to be a temporary hiatus, but maybe I need to stay home for another year. These kids are pretty needy, and I do love being with them." That thought was immediately followed by, "Wait. WHO AM I? Who is this person and what has she done with my actual inner monologue because this is unexpected?"
To say I wrestled with the decision to go back to work is a colossal understatement. That decision and I were in the Thunderdome for months. I wrestled and I prayed. Then I wrestled some more, and then I prayed some more. And then I...(you get my drift). I just kept saying, "Lord, show me what to do, and I'll do it," but weeks and months went by without any clear insight into the matter. At that point, my prayer may or may not have changed into something like, "Okay, if you could send me some sort of inscribed letter from on high that tells me whether or not I should go back to work, that would be great. In fact, I can even write out one of those elementary style 'Do you like me? Check Yes or No' letters myself, leave it on my dresser, and wait for you to check a box. PLEASE SHOW ME WHAT TO DO." Alas.
Anyone who has ever felt God move in his or her life knows that He very rarely sends golden letters down in chariots of fire to us thick mortals. His is often the still, small voice. After literal months of prayer, I thought I heard what that voice was saying, "Go back to the classroom. They're your kids too, and they need you." I informed my principal that I would return the next year, and that was that. Except it wasn't. (Is it ever?) A little over a month ago, I was hit with some information that would make the logistics of going back to work at KM, in a word, impossible. (If not impossible, then extremely, incredibly inconvenient and illogical) I was confused. Had I misheard Him? I was also heartbroken. I've posted on my FB page how much I absolutely hated to leave KM. It is truly a wonderful school, and I had a niche there. I had a niche, people!!! I had friends and a groove and a comfort zone and warm fuzzies! Leave KM!?!? But it seemed that the decision made itself in the end.
I went to pick up my entire career in rubbermaid containers on a Monday, still questioning on a gut-twisting level as to whether or not I made the right decision. I said goodbye to almost everyone. I gave some good hugs. I made a few final jokes. I managed not to cry (shockingly). And I walked out the front doors for the final time. I distinctly remember looking at the building where I'd been for so long, drawing in a deep breath as I turned the keys in the ignition, and praying, "God, this is your show. You know I only want to do what you would have me to do, so please show me what that is in your time."
He showed me a few hours later.
I logged in to check my email about an hour after I walked in the door after picking up and storing my school things. I had a response from my former English teacher who is now principal at my alma mater. On a whim, I'd emailed her a few months earlier when I was still in a cage match with that whole "Should I or Shouldn't I?" decision. I told her I was exploring my options at that time and wondered if she anticipated having any openings or need for a substitute the next school year. At that point, she did not anticipate having any openings, but she welcomed the opportunity to have me as a sub if I chose to stay at home for another year. That was that. Except it wasn't. (Wait. This smacks a bit of deja vu.) I found myself in her office later that week interviewing for a full-time English position at my alma mater.
I have a full-time teaching job that is 1.) across the parking lot from Lucy and 2.) less than five minutes away from our new house, and 3.) at a school that I know and love.
But wait, there's more.
I will start earlier in August than I originally anticipated when I planned on going back to KM. This was seemingly going to put us in a lurch with the closing date of our new house (mid-August) and securing a place for Emmett at daycare (mid-to-late August). I knew God would make a way, though, (as He always does).
*Drumroll, y'all*
Our house is ahead of schedule, so we will be closing at the end of July (or first of August at the latest), and daycare has a place for Emmett the week I go back to work.
GOD. IS. GOOD.
So if you ask me why I believe in God today, I have a better answer.
I believe in God because I've seen Him move mightily in my life time and time again. Some may call it coincidence or luck, but I know the power of prayer. I know that He loves me in a way that I cannot even fathom; my understanding of His mercies and His grace is only a scratch on the surface of what He does for me on a daily basis. I cannot number the times I've leapt from a cliff with nothing but blind faith to cling to, only to be caught by Him and placed lovingly on solid ground. I don't share this mini-testimony to gloat over my accomplishments because, truly, I have done nothing other than follow the path He has laid out for me. I am not a perfect person, and I am FAR from being a perfect Christian (which, if we're being honest, is a contradiction in terms), but He loves me anyway, and He provides. I want to share my joy at His provision and my love for Him with you.
I love you.
He loves you.
More than you know.
When I think about all of the major decisions I've made in my life, I can honestly say that every single one has been a straight up blind leap of faith - I'm talking throw my hands up in the air, shrug my shoulders, leap off a cliff, and pray for Him to catch me kind of leaps (which is a big deal for someone who is deathly afraid of heights, both literal and figurative). I have so many mini-testimonies that weave together to create a greater message: He's got me.
Now I'd like to share a recent mini-testimony with you, if you'll so indulge me.
Anyone who knows me or reads my blog/posts on social media knows that suffering a miscarriage was a pivotal moment in my life. As much as I wanted to be angry and bitter and hateful, I willed myself to work through the darkness and find the good sliver somewhere in that big old ball of total suckage. It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was worth it. Since that point, I have seen God's hand in every aspect of my life.
During those dark days, I made a promise to myself that if I were to have another baby, I'd take a year off of work and stay at home and just enjoy the blessing of that baby's infancy. That was a huge thing for me. I love my work and have never considered myself to be the stay-at-home mom type, but I felt compelled by a power greater than myself to make that decision. Welp. We all know how that one turned out. Emmett arrived, I took maternity leave, came back to finish out the school year, and began my Mombbatical. Being at home with an infant and a preschooler (with a few special needs) was, at times, maddening. There were tears (mine), yelling (also mine), tantrums (still mine), and general grumpiness (YES, MINE, OKAY?) a plenty, but the good outweighed the not so good by tons. The timing really was perfect because I was able to devote a great deal of attention to Lucy and to take her to weekly Occupational Therapy appointments and other evaluations. A funny thing started to happen to me around October; I started to think to myself, "Self, I know this was supposed to be a temporary hiatus, but maybe I need to stay home for another year. These kids are pretty needy, and I do love being with them." That thought was immediately followed by, "Wait. WHO AM I? Who is this person and what has she done with my actual inner monologue because this is unexpected?"
To say I wrestled with the decision to go back to work is a colossal understatement. That decision and I were in the Thunderdome for months. I wrestled and I prayed. Then I wrestled some more, and then I prayed some more. And then I...(you get my drift). I just kept saying, "Lord, show me what to do, and I'll do it," but weeks and months went by without any clear insight into the matter. At that point, my prayer may or may not have changed into something like, "Okay, if you could send me some sort of inscribed letter from on high that tells me whether or not I should go back to work, that would be great. In fact, I can even write out one of those elementary style 'Do you like me? Check Yes or No' letters myself, leave it on my dresser, and wait for you to check a box. PLEASE SHOW ME WHAT TO DO." Alas.
Anyone who has ever felt God move in his or her life knows that He very rarely sends golden letters down in chariots of fire to us thick mortals. His is often the still, small voice. After literal months of prayer, I thought I heard what that voice was saying, "Go back to the classroom. They're your kids too, and they need you." I informed my principal that I would return the next year, and that was that. Except it wasn't. (Is it ever?) A little over a month ago, I was hit with some information that would make the logistics of going back to work at KM, in a word, impossible. (If not impossible, then extremely, incredibly inconvenient and illogical) I was confused. Had I misheard Him? I was also heartbroken. I've posted on my FB page how much I absolutely hated to leave KM. It is truly a wonderful school, and I had a niche there. I had a niche, people!!! I had friends and a groove and a comfort zone and warm fuzzies! Leave KM!?!? But it seemed that the decision made itself in the end.
I went to pick up my entire career in rubbermaid containers on a Monday, still questioning on a gut-twisting level as to whether or not I made the right decision. I said goodbye to almost everyone. I gave some good hugs. I made a few final jokes. I managed not to cry (shockingly). And I walked out the front doors for the final time. I distinctly remember looking at the building where I'd been for so long, drawing in a deep breath as I turned the keys in the ignition, and praying, "God, this is your show. You know I only want to do what you would have me to do, so please show me what that is in your time."
He showed me a few hours later.
I logged in to check my email about an hour after I walked in the door after picking up and storing my school things. I had a response from my former English teacher who is now principal at my alma mater. On a whim, I'd emailed her a few months earlier when I was still in a cage match with that whole "Should I or Shouldn't I?" decision. I told her I was exploring my options at that time and wondered if she anticipated having any openings or need for a substitute the next school year. At that point, she did not anticipate having any openings, but she welcomed the opportunity to have me as a sub if I chose to stay at home for another year. That was that. Except it wasn't. (Wait. This smacks a bit of deja vu.) I found myself in her office later that week interviewing for a full-time English position at my alma mater.
I have a full-time teaching job that is 1.) across the parking lot from Lucy and 2.) less than five minutes away from our new house, and 3.) at a school that I know and love.
But wait, there's more.
I will start earlier in August than I originally anticipated when I planned on going back to KM. This was seemingly going to put us in a lurch with the closing date of our new house (mid-August) and securing a place for Emmett at daycare (mid-to-late August). I knew God would make a way, though, (as He always does).
*Drumroll, y'all*
Our house is ahead of schedule, so we will be closing at the end of July (or first of August at the latest), and daycare has a place for Emmett the week I go back to work.
GOD. IS. GOOD.
So if you ask me why I believe in God today, I have a better answer.
I believe in God because I've seen Him move mightily in my life time and time again. Some may call it coincidence or luck, but I know the power of prayer. I know that He loves me in a way that I cannot even fathom; my understanding of His mercies and His grace is only a scratch on the surface of what He does for me on a daily basis. I cannot number the times I've leapt from a cliff with nothing but blind faith to cling to, only to be caught by Him and placed lovingly on solid ground. I don't share this mini-testimony to gloat over my accomplishments because, truly, I have done nothing other than follow the path He has laid out for me. I am not a perfect person, and I am FAR from being a perfect Christian (which, if we're being honest, is a contradiction in terms), but He loves me anyway, and He provides. I want to share my joy at His provision and my love for Him with you.
I love you.
He loves you.
More than you know.
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