Last weekend, we got AC working in our fixer upper.
Sunday, we moved back into our house.
Today, I don't know.
Yesterday was Blake's birthday, and we celebrated by kayaking and stand up paddle-boarding, going out to dinner, and seeing a movie, just the two of us. In all of this, we had a little time to kill and I begged Blake to take me to the new mural in the Plaza District in OKC that I have been dying to see in person. I have been freaking out about this mural for two reasons: 1. Why wouldn't you be excited about a giant, adorable, bright orange sloth?! and 2. The succinct little message he carries: "Take life slow."
While we are moved back into our house, that doesn't mean the waiting is over. I am trying desperately to absorb this message to "take life slow," because everyone knows waiting is hard, because waiting is not knowing. None of us like not knowing. Not knowing is almost unbearably uncomfortable. We fill the not knowing with busyness--what can I do? What can I champion? What can I fill the time with through social media, Netflix, and bombarding myself with (often aimless) information?
Instead of freaking out about the not-knowing, I am trying to embrace the not-knowing as an opportunity to rest in God's presence. When I dwell too long on how much I don't know and I can feel my heart-rate rising, I run to Him. He is all-knowing. He is perfectly righteous, and perfectly loving.
I rest in God because I know I am obviously not Him. As a nation, we find ourselves in an incredible amount of not-knowing what is going to happen next. What do we do next in the wake of terror? Who do we elect to lead us through this tumultuous time? On top of this, there are those who are in the middle of not-knowing that absorbs every moment of their day: is my loved one going to get better? Will we ever be done with hospital stays and check-ups? Will I ever find the right job for the sake of my family? Will we ever find a place to live? Will I ever see them again? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
I am trying not to be in a hurry to know. I think somewhere along the way, we decided that having all of the answers was the beginning of wisdom; but some of the wisest people I know are slow to offer trite answers that diminish the magnitude of the problem.
Before I rush to know what is going to happen, or pick battles and choose sides, or force my way into whatever will make this waiting period shorter, I'm going to take life slow. I want to do more listening to God than talking. I want to do more listening to people than talking. I want to shut out noise and take my time in silence, asking the Spirit to meet me there in the stillness. No desperately seeking distractions. It would be foolish to expect a God outside of time to adhere to my perceived time limits.
I'll take life slow. I know that God is good, and sovereign. I trust Him to equip His people. I trust Him to work out His redemption story in all of the ways that are beyond my wildest imagination.
In the waiting, cry. Hug your people. Embrace the lump in your throat that feels like it will never go away. Waiting is hard. It's crazy to pretend like it isn't. Look for what God is doing in the waiting, because when the waiting is over you will need that wisdom.
Sorry, but no fixer upper work this week. I'm not exactly in a hurry today.