This Season

I find myself in a difficult season of life. A growing season. A giving season. A gasping-for-grace season.

On days when I’m feeling especially courageous, I tell myself that every soul-stretching moment of this difficult season is an opportunity for God to refine me, to scrub the cob-webbed corners of my sin-stained heart. On days when I’m feeling especially courageous, it’s easy for me to remember that God has led me here to care for my Grandma, that my God goes before me, and that where He leads me I am desperate to follow.

But if I’m honest? I must admit that I have embarrassingly few courageous days.

Most days, I feel like a failure. Most days, I believe I am not patient enough or organized enough or selfless enough to sail smoothly through this season. I yearn for what we left behind, wonder about what lies ahead, and question why God put us here. I feel a bit like a wanderer, like a soul stranded in the wilderness.

And, as uncomfortable as it feels to be a rootless wanderer, I want to remember every soul-stretching moment of the journey. Wilderness and all.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about my own limitations – how God searched the dark places of my heart to uncover impatience and anger and selfishness. I want to remember the uncomfortable feeling of staring at my own sinfulness and realizing my desperate need for a Savior.  Of course I would rather sweep these ugly habits under the rug and remind God of my more redeeming qualities, but this season has taught me a valuable lesson about my identity. I am a sinner in need of grace. On my own, I am not enough. But Jesus is. I want to remember the way my own shortcomings force me to reach desperately for the steady hand of my Savior. Every. Single. Day.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about being misunderstood. When people hear about our decision to care for my Grandma, some of them begin making assumptions. Some people assume that we moved so we could send our son to a more affluent school. Others ask vague questions to determine if our move was prompted by financial difficulties. By far the most common reaction to hearing about our current living situation is, “So when your Grandma dies, will you get to keep the house?” (Really?! Who believes this is an appropriate question to ask?) I want to remember what it’s like to be misunderstood. I want to remember the confidence of resting in God’s will, even when other people raise their eyebrows and scratch their heads and question our priorities.

I want to remember what this season has taught me about letting go. Of small things and big things. I want to remember how absolutely excruciating it can be to let go of hopes and dreams and plans. But I also want to remember that God does His best work when I let go.

It is a difficult season. But it is a good season. And I know my Savior leads me.