As I sit here, at my plant-crowded desk, wondering what to type onto this page and listening to sweet, sweet Latin music of which I can't understand a word, I can't help but feel a lack of control. But it's not a scary lack of control, it's more of a sweet surrender. A surrender that comes from basking in the unpredictable and indecipherable happenings of now. You see, there's a flood of emotions that comes with transition and change, but a deep peace as well. The change I'm talking about is a simple one in my life, it's basically routine: school is in. It's away from full-time ministry and back into training and classes. Which is all fine and dandy, except that I feel that the person I was, the influencer and the leader that was cultivated within myself is at stake. I've spent thousands of tears, terrified of losing my current stability and health, longing for the people I won't be able to see again for months in the busyness, and petrified of waiting longer. But like I said, I feel a sweet, sweet peace. Yesterday I watched a video of my baptism; of course I was wearing my mermaid leggings by Vancouver Mermaid, and of course I was baptized in an Okanagan lake. I got to thinking about how far I'd come from when I was first married, when I was baptized, when everything in my life began. While drawn out, overly emotional, and probably grossly nostalgic, I finally realize that I've spent a lot of this year wishing for what I once had. Missing Oliver, missing my family, wanting for my friends; I experienced all of this longing for the past and didn't completely recognize in the moment that what I have now is a new beginning, reminiscent and revering to my past, but opportunistic and healthy toward my future.
Friends, I'm sure you can already tell this isn't an ordinary blog post. Not only is it the first one I've made in months, it's also not particular to any one subject. I'm not selling anything here. This is an invitation into a new beginning. A opening of my eyes to the potential and goodness of the future, even in the unknown. It's not a lamentation to what I've lost or am losing, but a somber celebration of what lies ahead in the blurred canvas of life and potential. Like a vine blindly but confidently creeps toward it's next foothold, I feel a motivation to press in, to press forward, in the solace and the unforgiving future toward my next foothold. Thank you for reading my journal entry, Rebekah.
1 Comment
10/4/2019 05:41:21 am
I'm glad you have explored, both in this blog post and on Instagram, the concept of surrendering to Christ and how the concept of "surrender" is far more inviting in this case than it would be in most others. My wife Cathy once talked about having an all-night argument with God about issues in her life and then added that the whole event cemented her feeling on the pointlessness about arguing with God: "He always wins!"
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