Hope

It is what it is. Have you ever heard this expression? It is what it is. Things are what they are. Some situations or life choices are out of our control so just accept life as it comes and drive on. You can’t change what’s done so get over it. This was how I used to define this expression. However, these five small words, seemingly insignificant on their own, took on a whole new meaning after hearing my pastor preach a sermon on them. Our view of life in this fallen world is very limited. We only know what’s happened in the past so we do our best to learn from the mistakes we’ve made and celebrate the victories won. We plan for the future the best we can but have no idea what tomorrow holds. “We can make our plans, but the final outcome is in God’s hands.” ~ Proverbs 16:1 TLB When I was a teenager, I committed this verse to memory from the translation of the Living Bible. Its meaning couldn’t be more clear. I imagine that’s why it’s my favorite translation. While it’s wise to plan for the future, I know that my steps are ordered and directed by God. So, I make my plans then allow God to reveal His plan as He sees fit, then I trust Him to walk me into it. Sounds easy, right? Not quite. When I built my home a few years ago, I visited the construction site almost every day. I watched as it transformed from a vacant, muddy lot to a concrete foundation with walls to separate the rooms that would become my place of safety and protection from the outside world. Once the walls were in place, I watched as the electricians pulled wire throughout the entire structure to enable me to have power in each room. After the power was in place, insulation was put in over the wires for protection, then sheetrock over the insulation and finally, the walls were ready to be painted. It was quite a process. It took about four months from start to finish and I enjoyed watching each step in the process. This home had all I needed to get through everyday life. As all of you, I am quarantined during this shelter-in-place we now finds ourselves in. I’m quite sure I can say, with 100% accuracy, that none of us planned for this to happen. Who would plan for something as horrible as a pandemic to invade our lives as it has? While it wasn’t in our plan, God knew it was coming. While I do not understand all that is happening nor do I know why, one thing is sure. God is still on His throne and He’s still in control. I believe that with every ounce of my being. Over the past few days, I have realized that time has become very messed up. I’m sure most of you have realized this as well. In my normal routine, I would be at work from 9 to 5. However, since being quarantined, my days seem to run together. It’s hard to keep track of what day it is. But as long as I work the 40 hours required of me, all is well. However, nothing is set. Nothing is planned. And, very honestly, it has rocked my world a little. Since the divorce, the routine I have established over the past few years, has enabled me to focus on healing and recovering from the abuse I endured for a very long time. Having a specific place to be each day for a certain amount of hours, helped me deal with the grief I had to feel in order to be healed. It also distracted me from it for a bit. And it was going very well. Since the shelter-in-place mandate was put into place, I have been out of that routine. The first few weeks were nice because it gave me a break from having to get dressed up each morning as well as not having to fight morning rush traffic on my commute to the office. Now, it takes me no time to get ready for work. I get up, brush my teeth, wash my face, throw on some comfy clothes, then sit down to my computer, with coffee in hand, and get started on my day. While all of that sounds great and I can do my job from the comfort of my own home, I see a huge error in this new way of doing things. Where is Jesus in all of that? Before the quarantine, I would listen to praise and worship music on my drive into work or I’d listen to a sermon on YouTube. It was special time with Jesus every morning and I looked forward to it. Since being at home, that part of my daily routine has suffered. When life gets interrupted with the unexpected, the enemy loves nothing more than seeing God’s kids distracted so he can redirect our focus onto the troubles of what is going on around us. Which, in return, takes our focus off what God is doing in us. I awoke this morning feeling very down and, for lack of a better word, disconnected. So, after putting the coffee onto brew, I turned toward the living room window and noticed the dogwood tree I planted last year, was budding back to life. I was afraid it had died during our last frost but not so. I quickly found my shoes so I could go out and get a closer look. As I stood there, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I heard the Spirit whisper, “I make all things new. Just like your heart.”  The dogwood tree didn’t die. It was just in its normal routine of being dormant in the winter. God was at work in the unknown to bring it back to life, just as He does every Spring. I walked back

“For as the rain comes down, and the snow from Heaven, and do not return there, but water the earth and make it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.”    ~ Isaiah 55:10-11 Watering the newly planted grass that was to be my yard, watching the droplets fall to the earth from the hose I held in my hand, I prayed a simple prayer: “Lord, speak.” Through the leafy trees, rays of sunshine spot-lighted kelly-green blades of baby grass peeking through the soil, and I wondered what Jesus might say to me. Continuing my task, I could see trees, grass, earth and blue skies, but I couldn’t ‘hear’ the whispered words my heart longed for. I muttered again: “I need You to say something to me, Lord. This ministry is starting, the train has left the station, and while I believe with every ounce of me that this is my reason for being, I’m afraid I have nothing to say.” I quieted myself and focused on the water droplets spraying from my garden hose for the sole purpose of giving drink to these fledgling seeds. Without it, they wouldn’t survive. The labor of ground preparation and planting would be in vain. I worried and wondered if the seeds would germinate; if a lush green lawn was in my future…or perhaps, a writing ministry I feared I wasn’t qualified for. That’s when His answer came to me (in my own paraphrased way) and was quickly conveyed to my heart: “as the rain comes down and does not return without watering the earth, so My word goes out from My mouth and does not return void but accomplishes ALL for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11). And I knew it was His answer to my question. I have been tasked with sharing my experiences with others. Mine has not been an easy life; no one’s is. But if the things I’ve suffered and contended with over the years merely “resolve” without benefiting others from lessons learned, then my suffering is in vain. And that’s where the disconnect has always been. Fear enters the equation (every single time), and it looks something like this… Life happens, something causes uneasiness, which leads to an inexplicable need for me to write, quickly followed by a fear to do so. Fear of a blank page turns into an even greater fear of putting my words on the page; words representative of vulnerable places inside me. This fear results in not writing; not following my calling. Often, I don’t even attempt that which I know God is patiently waiting for me to do. I knew I wanted to be a writer at 12 or 13 years old. By 16, that desire turned to need as a way of expressing myself, processing the world around me and finding my way. Teenaged angst can be a powerful motivator. It certainly was for me. So, I wrote. Like a painter paints and a budding thespian acts, I wrote poetry with abandon. I also spent a fair amount of time outside letting God inspire me through nature. If I were to look back and read my early works (and I have), I would be embarrassed at my immaturity and melodrama. However, if I were to also look beyond the surface, I’d see a young girl who not only placed value on language, but who literally basked in the beauty of the written word. In studying her drafts, I would see attempts at making words leap from the page and embrace in a dance of lyrical prose, and I’d see edits when those words didn’t quite communicate her intention. Fast forward forty years. Life took some left turns; the opposite of right. And while yes, I know that’s a bad pun, it’s also truth. My friend Holly used to say, “when making a life decision between two good things, ask yourself this question: ‘is it merely good…or is it right? Better yet, is one of the choices only cloaked in a mask of goodness?’” I wish I’d known that when I was young. How many wrong choices might have been avoided, and how much heartache saved? That includes my very recent years of intense grief over lost time and lost dreams. Life circumstances…even the most tragic ones…usually and eventually resolve to an extent that is compatible with life. The black hole of loss, the stinging memory of unfortunate words, the deep ache that settles over us when we’re hit with the realization that our own choices play a part in the agony…and worst of all, knowing that the pain of consequences extends to those we love but who share no blame. These things we can usually move beyond, to a place of healing acceptance. But for me, it’s been the sinking realization that precious time has slipped away, imperceptibly, coupled with the knowledge that time itself cannot come back. We don’t control it. A very tough pill to swallow. If there is one good thing about the passage of time, it’s that we can look back and identify where the wrong turns were and when they happened. From that knowledge, perhaps wisdom is gained and that is valuable. Like most of us, I wish I’d known then what I know now. So, what can we do now to step up to the plate and discern whether to take our best swing, or hold up? There are reasons we don’t swing at every pitch. Some pitches are simply bad. But if it’s fear, we shouldn’t let that factor into our strategy. Fear of failure, in and of itself, is never a good enough reason to decline to follow God’s leading. Sometimes fear is good;