hope gets the last word

When this year started, I felt the Father tell me that I needed to hold onto the words “even if.” I don’t tend to choose a word every year, but this year I felt like that was something that I needed to hold onto, unknowing of what this year would bring.

Even when the anxiety comes back, He is still good.

Even if all of my plans are cancelled and I don’t know when I’ll be able to continue, He is still good.

Even if I haven’t hugged my friends in over two months, He is still good.

Even if my job doesn’t work out the way I thought it would, He is still good.

For even if, He is still good.

I had no idea, even when He was telling me “even if.”

This is the thing though, regardless of everything that is going on right now. He is still good. I’ve seen His hand in my life more than I ever have. Just a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure if I had a job this summer. I’m beyond excited to share that I have been hired as a nanny, a job that I can work amidst a global pandemic. I had gone to this interview, already planning to work another job. There was something in me, that knew I should drive the hour and a half to go to an interview. Because of that interview, I now have a job, and my other (previously) planned job isn’t happening due to COVID. I woke up to an email about that job and promptly cried. Because even if, He is still good.

These weeks haven’t been easy. There’s been a lot of questioning and a lot of time sitting with the Lord. Asking about next steps, when I am unsure when I’ll even be able to take the next step.

These weeks have also been beautiful. I’ve cooked and laughed with my Mama. I’ve taken countless walks, at least once a day. Learned more about chicken farming with my Dad. My family is all under one roof, something that may never happen again as we move out and spread these wings. I’ve realized how funny my brother is, and how much bread we can consume as a family.

These weeks have also been full of learning more about myself, but also who Jesus is. A side of Him that I’ve never really seen before. Learning that I will never grow tired of who He is, and that’s a beautiful thing.

I’m learning that hope and fear can’t coexist in the same space. That Jesus loves to leave hope bread crumbs sprinkled around me. That Jesus gets the last word, hope gets the last word, for death lost that opportunity when He went to the cross.

For even if, he is still good.

njl.

so i say amen.

I’m trying to hold my hands open right now. There’s a part of me that wants to hold onto all of my plans as tight as I can, even though I know that I have zero control over what happens, and what has happened.

I’m trying to hold my hands open, because holding onto these plans is going to lead to more disappointment if I don’t let it all go.

I’ve been in seasons of unknown before, unsure of where I want to go, or what I want to do. This is the thing though, I’m in a season of unknowing, and I have no idea what is next. I had plans, I thought that I knew what was going to happen. Now, I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow, let alone this summer for a job, and what about september?

So, I hold my hands open. My plans laid out on my palms, free for the taking.

This hasn’t been easy, getting to this point of opening my hands. There has been a lot of questioning, a lot of tears. There has been a lot of prayer. And I’m still in the thick of the unknown. I’m still here. I’ll be here for a while yet.

There’s something that needs to be said about this time, is how it shows that we never actually held the control. I never once held the controls to my future, even if it felt like that sometimes, and an invisible virus woke me up to this fact.

I’ve sat with this page open for a while now, the blank white staring back at me. Reminding me that the next few months of my life look a bit like this white page. Me, begging Jesus to pick up the pen and write it. Put something down on that page, something concrete because nothing is concrete in my life right now. He reminds me through my asking of Him to pick up the pen, is that He is just going to write of His love for me all over these pages because that’s the only thing that is concrete. For His love never changes.

My prayers have been messy, often uttered under my breath as the bad news threatens to take over. The words spilling out of my lips, knowing that He’s still listening.

Knowing that He’s picked up the pen, and He’s writing of His love for me.

I don’t know what I am doing this summer yet.

I don’t know about next year.

I have a friend who reminds me that these “I don’t knows” are okay. You don’t need to know. It’s okay to sit with them, and not get an answer. These “I don’t knows” are okay, and I need to allow them. I know that I am not the only person walking through a forest of “I don’t knows” right now, most of the world is, and there’s something oddly comforting about that.

So I say amen. For He knows. For He’s still sitting in the “I don’t knows” with you.

Holding my hands open, allowing His breath to blow these plans into the wind. I can’t hold onto them anymore, for they were never mine to hold onto in the beginning. I was never in control, but now I reminded who is in control, and who always was.

So I say amen.

njl.