Looking back, I think I held my breath a lot.
We got off the plane with our 18? bags and my internal Angie started to turn blue.
My heart signed an invisible contract.
I’d figure things out. I’d get us settled. I’d navigate roads and grocery store aisles and a new-of-sorts language.
And then I’d breathe. And our story would begin.
I started driving. I figured out how to interpret the dairy section and the seemingly 8 different types of cream. And I started differentiating between a trolley and a cart and entree and a main and to ring and to call and learned that women here get clucky.
But the buts inhibited full breaths from coming.
But Joshua’s speech. When he starts talking more…
But Lizzy’s perpetual illnesses. When we figure out what’s wrong…
Well, Joshua’s speech is miles (kilometers) better and growing steadily. Lizzy’s never been more well. They love kinder (preschool). Scott’s thriving at his role. I love my recruiting job. My heart has made good, deepening girlfriend connections.
More recently than I want to admit, I processed with a friend (read: free counseling) and heard myself say how I felt like our story was finally starting.
And like a wave of sound that rips through a crowd, felt in every chest, God spoke to my heart.
Your story doesn’t start now when things are well and you feel more in control. Your story has been going on for years. Your life is your story. And I’m behind each act of every scene.
Life is now.
I have to laugh that God’s given me a daughter with an oft-daily passion to decorate for/celebrate something or someone almost daily.
So I am renewed to live fully in the now. It’s where God’s put me. Adventures behind and adventures to come. Days when everything seems to be blooming. Days when I’ve chosen tasks over people and I’m exposed in my lack of loving well.
Days when we just have a picnic on the bathroom rug.
On the off chance I’m not alone in this holding-your-breath-until-_____ happens, can I encourage me/you to breathe today?
Our story is amidst the good, the hard, victories, failures and the not-yets. And my story (and yours) has such great hope because of Jesus. My story is too big for it to be about just me. And that is very good news to be part of The Big Story.
That’s what I was made for.