This quote reminds me of how much greater God is than I remember He is. He is the only one who’s always faithful, the only one we can totally count on. And as weak as my faith is, God is sovereign. And He is “with us.” What a comfort.

What a comfort this is to me as we are preparing to move to South Asia! And what a comfort during any time of transition. God’s protection is greater than any distance, time, people, circumstance, developing country, government. Wherever I go–whatever I do–I have His protection.

How would this transform my life if I allowed it to? I should be stunned that a sovereign God cares about me and provided a sacrifice for me to be in relationship with Him. But how often does that become commonplace?

I should be satisfied that God knows me because He is THE thing that my heart longs for to be complete. He is faithful, purposeful, always there, just, and the only way to salvation.

A few months ago, I would have said returning home makes me feel “relaxed, ready to veg out, refreshed, always glad to be there.” Now, the answer’s not so simple. I am asking the question, am I even home? Where is home? If it’s where I grew up, then, that’s in Alabama. That doesn’t really feel like home anymore. It feels like a place I used to live, remember fondly and enjoy visiting mainly for the people.

If home is my house, can it really be home if I’m selling my furniture and packing things away in boxes? My once-cozy solace is upside down with boxes, moving and disappearing furniture, a stack of blankets that I’m not sure what to do with, and empty spaces.

If it’s where Harry is, I don’t really feel like we get much time together these days. We’re both working on our own details most of the time right now out of necessity. It’s just a season to pass through for a greater end, but it isn’t an easy one.

But, if home is where God has called me to be, then I guess I’m there. Preparing to sell the only house the married me has known and some furniture and other things–just stuff, but symbolic of a huge life change. Moving toward our South Asian calling in the only way we know how, trusting God to provide the details, finances, and emotional stability to live life abundantly along the way.  And we’re thankful for the opportunity to remember to long for a home that we don’t know yet, something we don’t quickly remember when we’re comfortable and settled.

This quote reminds me of the first time I traveled alone and tasted true independence. On my way to begin a study abroad program in London between my junior and senior years of college, I had no idea what I was capable of. I didn’t know I could read a map or navigate a subway system or a train schedule in a language I didn’t know–with nothing but my own mind and a friendly, bilingual stranger. I had just flown for 6 hours across the Atlantic and found myself in the London airport with no one to welcome me. The farthest away from home I had ever been. 

And I was alone.

It was 2:30 a.m. at home. I was exhausted. My parents were waiting to hear that I was safe. The airport was busy and the day was just beginning there. Hugging all of my luggage as close to me as possible, I made my way to a pay phone for the obligatory call that would ease my parents’ minds. 

I remember hearing their voices on the other end of the line. They sounded so far away and I got a little choked up and wanted to cry. But I stopped myself because I needed to be independent.  

I was totally alone in the world. Nothing was familiar. No one I could see was even aware of me. This occurred over a period of about 10 minutes, but it was poignant. 

Then, I picked up my luggage and found my next flight, discarding the loneliness and embracing the adventure.

I want someone to tell me that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but life isn’t always like that.  Often, I have to be content with the opportunities in front of me and satisfied that God has provided those and trust Him to use them in my life.  Often, I have to struggle with contentment because I wrestle against perfectionism in every aspect of my life–something that makes me a good writer because I enjoy the revision process, but makes me a tortured soul because I find it hard to allow things to be imperfect even though they so often are!  

I find this verse really comforting because I am the worst kind of planner–the one that thinks that if the plan is good enough, I shouldn’t encounter any problems along the way.  Ha!  But I can read this verse and remember that no matter what I’m doing, it is the Lord who establishes my plans.  I don’t have to be tortured–just committed to the work He has put before me….encouraging a friend, finding staff for an elderly client, communicating with a case manager, singing on the worship team, doing laundry, making dinner for a friend, writing an article or spending time with my grandmother while she struggles to remember where she is and what this life is about.

Today, the quotes were overheard in an anonymous hospital waiting room in Birmingham. Please note, I was “not droppin’ no eaves” as Frodo’s friend Samwise might say.  The waiting room was small and the voices were loud. No attempt was made to conceal these words…

“Begin your independence with a Quickie powerchair!” A few minutes after I noticed this charge on a box of pamphlets in the corner, I heard a 60-year-old-man say, with an air of stubbornness, “The older I get, the more independent I am.” I wonder if he has any idea what he’s missing out on without a Quickie powerchair. His life could be transformed!

Signs always amuse me–not just the ones on churches. This sign was a typical list of rules for a hospital waiting room. But one rule in particular made me wonder why it was there:  ”No lounging furniture, appliance, or coolers may be brought into the hospital.” I mean, who doesn’t have their pool chair or recliner in the trunk of the car for occasions such as these!?

The next stage involves waiting while the patient is prepared to be “taken back.” And after that, four people cram into a tiny room while you wait for someone to take the patient back. The chaplain comes by, then the anesthesiologist.  Then, you move on to the official waiting room, which brings its own little tests of patience.  

First, you have to wait for the volunteer to show up so that you can register with the waiting room. Because for some reason, he doesn’t have to be there at 5 when everyone else does.  Then, you wait for a call from the operating room to say the surgery has officially begun.  Then, after the phone rings about 10 times, you hear the waiting-room volunteer say, “They’re waiting for the doctors to find their goggles so that the surgery can begin.  They don’t have any in the operating room even though they’ve had this scheduled for a few weeks.” Huh?  

After they find their goggles, you begin waiting for the surgery to be over, the only reason you came in the first place!  The doctor comes out when you’re almost ready to panic. By this time, the phone has rung so many times for another family, you’ve had plenty of time to imagine all of the things that could go wrong.  So, the doctor comes out to tell you that you can start waiting for the patient to be out of recovery–at which time you can cram four more people back into the tiny room.

And finally, you get to wait for the patient to complete the tasks required of someone leaving the hospital–standing, walking to the nurse’s station, drinking a glass of juice, eating a cracker, etc.–while your stomach growls viciously and you stare at the clock trying to be supportive but really just wanting it all to be over.

So, a 30-minute surgery equals about eight hours of waiting.  Who knew?

Well, the man sitting next to us with his wife was only in the initial stage, while we were in the second stage. We had no idea what waiting lay ahead of us, but were trying to be supportive of our family.  A little nervously, he commented, “Th’only reason she’s here is cuz Wal-Mart’s not havin’ a sale.”  Hey, if I had known, Wal-Mart might not have needed a sale!

NO!  Not right.  It’s beautiful.  Here’s an excerpt:

“For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn’t writing prayers, as I was often enough.  You feel that you are with someone.  I feel I am with you now, whatever that can mean, considering that you’re only a little fellow now and when you’re a man you might find these letters of no interest.  Or they might never reach you, for any of a number of reasons.  Well, but how deeply I regret any sadness you have suffered and how grateful I am in anticipation of any good you have enjoyed.  That is to say, I pray for you.  And there’s intimacy in it.  That’s the truth.”

Maybe I like this because my grandmother is ill and I am having to adjust to the reality that her life is nearer to the end than the beginning and I long to know her like this.  Maybe it’s because I like honest writing about life–even the everyday and the mundane.  Or maybe because I have relationships that I wish were more meaningful.  Or maybe it’s because I’d like to know the inner thoughts of my parents more than I do.

Oh, well.  Whatever the reason, I like it!

I love making lists.  I mean, really love it.  Just ask Harry.  We’ll be vegging out on a Sunday night trying to make the most of every remaining relaxing moment before the work week begins and I’ll start to freak out about everything that needs to happen that week or everything I didn’t get done over the weekend.  And he’ll say, would it help you to make a list?  So, I make a list and my shoulders relax and I put it out of my head and return to my relaxing evening.  Lists can be a good thing for people like me.

They make me feel like I have some control over my day, my house, my work, my family, holidays…just about anything.  If I can make a list, I can take a deep breath and know that it’s going to get done.

Sometimes, though, the whole list doesn’t get finished.

I know, it’s shocking, but I can’t really have control over every aspect of my life with a list–not matter how hard I try!  And when that happens, I have to choose whether to be angry because my idol of perfectionism has failed me, or to be at peace with what did get done and rest in my identity in Christ.

My spiritual life is not immune to this activity either.  I look at the verse above and see a list.  Finally, something for me to check off in the Christian life!   Number 1:  Act justly….ok, I think I’ve got that one.  I definitely try to be fair.  Number 2:  Love mercy….Who doesn’t love mercy?  Then, Number 3:  Walk humbly.  hmmm.  Then, it starts to get a little more complicated.

I definitely want justice and fairness for the things I think are wrong in the world, but what does “acting justly” really mean in my little world?  What does it mean when I have a conflict with a coworker?

And I love mercy for myself, but I don’t always want it for someone that I feel has wronged me or a loved one.  And is it just me, or is there a tension between acting justly and loving mercy?

And then, walking humbly with the Lord.  Wow.  So, even when I get a list, it’s still about my heart.  Even when it’s boiled down into a list of three bullets, it’s still impossible to be obedient to the Lord and His commands without submitting my heart to Him in humility.  And no matter how much I want to make one, there’s no list for that.