For my first blog post with Wendi, I had my usual writer’s block. I love to write, I’m fairly opinionated and I consider my life to be interesting…yet Wendi quietly noted that my own blog has been, well, completely blank for awhile now. I was excited at the prospect of dipping my toe in the blogosphere waters (check me out if you want, maybe it will inspire me!)...but every thought I would come up with wouldn’t really develop into a full-on blog post. But today, I was struck by a simple realization that I want to share.
He is faithful.
Let me rewind a little and in the process, you’ll get to know me a bit more too.
In 2007, at the ripe ol age of 30, I moved away from home for the first time. I was born and raised in my hometown, with only minor breaks for the girls’ home in TX where I got saved (see? Interesting!) and college six hours away from my family. But by 30, I was chomping at the bit to “see the world”, so I enthusiastically accepted a job offer in Washington DC. I packed up my car and drove from one Washington to another, stopping to see every site, monument and attraction I could, along the way.
But once I arrived in DC, I regretted it almost immediately. I tried to find a job back in my hometown, but nothing was available. What ensued was years of what I now call “the rollercoaster.” I moved 9 times between 2007and 2012. But none of them, home. I sold a condo, I rented small apartments close to work, I rented smaller apartments close to church, I put all my stuff in storage and rented a studio apartment…I rented rooms in people’s homes, I bought a different condo, I lived in the DC area, I moved to central California, I loved *back* to DC - eventually I even moved to Portugal. I was lonely to my core. My friends from home moved on with their lives. I stopped going home for visits because it made me feel so much WORSE when I had to go back to wherever I was living at the time. And all the while, I tried to find a job back in my hometown. But, nothing! I began to wonder if I’d been blacklisted somehow. Or did God just really not want me living there?
This whole time, the only constant I had, was God. The coffee table I have my feet on right now, I bought during my central California studio-living season. It’s a reminder of the time I heard God’s voice clear as a bell in my “knower”. There I was, on the floor with countless pieces of coffee table scattered about sobbing and hiccupping, chastising God for abandoning me – clearly I couldn’t handle my lack of community, since I couldn’t even put together a stupid coffee table by myself. And then….”I’m here.” And I realized it, with a clarity I never had before. I dried my tears and built a cheap Wal-Mart coffee table well enough that’s still in use five years later!
Joyce Meyer says God is never late, but He’s rarely early. I can say “Amen” to that! Throughout my time on this rollercoaster, God has provided right when I needed it most. Whether it’s support for building a coffee table, or the family who invited me to their home on my birthday (when I was wandering the mall all by myself.) I’ve learned SO MUCH about myself and my God, during these rollercoaster years. He’s always been faithful and provided what I need, when I need it. But I’ve come to learn that when and what I think I need it, and when or what I actually need it, are two different things.
While I’ve enjoyed certain aspects of exploring this world, there’s always the nagging feeling that I’m in exile. So, while I want to live the life God wants for me (and live it to the fullest!), I wonder if that exile feeling will ever end. Coming up on this past New Years, I realized that 2014 was my seventh year in exile. I know seven is a holy number and that some even call it the number of completion. So, maybe it isn’t entirely surprising that I got a call last week. It was a job offer that I enthusiastically accepted. I’m going home.
“Faithful is He who calls you, and He will also bring it to pass.” 1 Thessalonians 5:24