My Time Will Come

I have been writing, folks. Writing and thinking and praying and reading and writing some more.  I have about fifteen half-written blogs.  So much to be said; so many threads to be pulled.  My little tribe has done an immense amount of growing, painfully and tenaciously, during the past few months.  I have no words to encapsulate all that has happened in our hearts and our prayers.  And we are still very much in the thick of it. Maybe someday, I will be able to slap a theme on it and talk about "lessons learned" all packaged and peaceful and stuff. 

 But not today.

And even as I type I feel the need to immediately post a disclaimer on such vulnerability.  Because we are healthy.  We are so in love with one another and fiercely devoted to the God who is redeeming our very story. We have family and friends who walk beside us and point us towards hope and promise.  All the big and important things are in place, safe and secure, thank you Jesus.  

But, sometimes, being a grown up and making grown up decisions can be enough to put us over the edge. Couple that with a tendency for control and the blurriness of the unknown and watch me go cray.  The past six months have kind of been a pot that boileth over.  Great things and hard things.  Big Decisions made and some big ones to make.  

We put our home up for sale in June as my parents graciously offered to let us live with them for a while. It seemed like perfect timing with Greg working full-time and being in graduate school. We were excited about respite from finances, and I was excited to hang out with my mom all day.  Anne of Green Gables marathons like whoa. 

But. We knew that we needed to trust that God was in the process.  Whatever the outcome.  And it's a good thing we did.  Because the week after we listed, word leaked that developers had bought a plot of land at the end of our street to build a $450 million power plant.  Blessedness.  We had two showings in 60 days.  We prayed and talked and struggled with our decision, but we knew that until this power plant business blew over, we couldn't even pay people to buy our home.  

So, we are staying.  We are trusting that God ordered this process just so and that we are still needed here, in our little yellow home.  

And with that commitment to stay came a slew of other decisions.  Financial decisions, like our commitment to my pulling an income through in home daycare  (side note:  little people are just my favorite.  If I have to work it will always, always be with them.)  Family decisions...like do we want a big family or is that something that I say when I have too much wine?   Because hey: big families are fun.  I grew up in one.  I'm just not sure that I'm meant to parent one.  Unless I take up day drinking.  Kidding?

So anyways,  I have experienced some tension between desire and reality.  I have prayed and cried and fought and struggled along this journey over the past year or so.  Because, If I had my perfect life, I would wear a Snuggie and eat cheesecake and just write the day away.  I just love words.  WORDS FOR LIFE.  But we gots bills to pay.  And a hubby in school chasing so hard and so well after his dreams.  And little loves that need my full attention throughout their first days.  I know that God has called me to anchor the SS Hamann for this season.  And I'm doing it.  By God's amazing grace, I'm doing it.

But it doesn't always mean that it's peaceful and effortless or at the expense of something else.  Sometimes, I feel caught up in a strange borderland where I am jealous of my working friends and jealous of my stay at home mom friends and jealous that my kids get to eat Cheez-its all day.  And sometime, I secretly fear that these months might turn into years and my anchor will become barnacled and rusty.  

Last week I received an unexpected note of encouragement from someone I don't know all too well.  She had been praying for me (so humbling) and had a word to share with me.  And you guys.  I just cry trying to type this.  She said (paraphrased) You are where you are supposed to be.  Nothing is in vain.  God wants you to know your time will come.  Your prayers are heard.  Your heart is known.  Your gifts will shine for Jesus.  I cannot even explain what reading this word did to my heart.  But I think it burst and healed at the same time.  

And this:  

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still. Exodus 14:14

Balm to my heart.   My time will come.  I need to be still and trusting in this season.  It is not in vain.   There is more to be learned from this. There is more that needs to be loved through this. I love my little tribe and I know that a time will come, all too soon, where no one needs a band-aid for their stuffed elephant and where my incredible husband gets to be home more and the kitchen floor will stay clean for more than an hour.   I'm not going to waste these precious and significant moments by coveting my future.  We are hunkering down, y'all.  In it to win it and such.  

I know I need to be at the proverbial here before I can get to the proverbial there.

And I know, without a doubt, that I will look back on this particular season of my life and eat up every little moment that God allowed me to have.