In these past two weeks, I started and stopped two other blog entries.
I just couldn’t finish them.
I’m not exactly sure why, except for the fact that I’ve been using any remaining brain power, that the baby hasn’t already sucked up, to finish writing my book that is coming out sometime late this year.
If you want to read the backstory on how this blog turned book came to be, check out the history here.
I never, ever aspired to write a book. I never, ever could have imagined writing that many words at any given time. Granted, we are not talking many hundreds of pages or anything, but still, what a feat.
And yet, reading over my draft this afternoon, I was struck at the journey I have taken these past few years. How God has opened my eyes in new ways, how God has brought me up out of the dark, the fear, and into the Light. To see the reality that there is no place I can go where God is not.
Death of loved ones,
Forging new paths…
All along the journey, looking back, I found that I was accompanied. Love was there by my side…it was just a matter of if, when, how I recognized it.
I am a much changed person now than I once was. It is awe-inspiring to see how God used this period in my life to, in many ways, grow-up my soul.
Like the disciples who on that dark and painful Friday evening who ran away from Jerusalem and from everything they once believed…
were met by the hidden Christ on the road to Emmaus who came to them in their darkest hour…
and whose eyes were only finally opened as they gave thanks,
as they whispered gratitude,
as they broke bread with this stranger, now turned friend.
How scarcity and fear was replaced with bounty and joy as they recognized who it really was in their midst.
And how he was with them the entire way. The entire journey long.
Yes and yes. All along, Christ was there, meeting me on the road.
After recognizing the Christ, they knew what they must do. For how could they remain in a place of running away now that they saw they never really were ever alone? They were not abandoned, left to wander. But rather there by their side, always, was Emmanuel. They just didn’t recognize it until now.
He was there.
He showed up.
They had to return and share this good news.
In a lot of ways this book, Ordinary Miracles, is a returning for me. It is a sharing of my own personal journey of darkness and grief, entry into parenthood, and vocational call. It is the story of how God shaped me and continues to invite me to live and breathe out of place of wholeness.
Yet the closer I get to being finished with it, the colder my sweat becomes. The vulnerability, the fears, the doubts. (The voice of my English professor in college resounds, ” …excellent work, best you’ve written…B+.” Great, thanks.)
But in the quiet, I am reminded that this is not about me. Sharing my story is ultimately not about checking off a bucket-list item, an attempt to be famous or make loads of money.
It is about being faithful to the call.
It is about sharing my story of how God has worked, is working, and I trust, will continue to work in my life.
It is a story, ultimately, about hope, that even in all our days: our darkest hour, greatest moments, and most mundane/ordinary days, Love is present.
In the end, may God be praised. May I be made small so that His voice can speak to the hearts and lives of the readers. It has been quite the journey and I am humbled to see God’s activity.
I trust that the One who called me to this, is faithful and will bring it to completion. Because in the end, it’s not about me. It is about the One who called me. And as He called me to this, He will see it through.
And I pray that this read will enable you to reflect and see how and where God met, and is meeting you in your life.
May we return with burning hearts and declare together, “I have seen the Lord!”