It’s just like God to bring something into our lives at the
perfect time. A time that takes you by surprise, yet means more than words can
describe.
This morning I experienced one of those times. I wanted to
something to listen to while sorting through pictures on my computer (long
story short, all of my photos became one huge event on my iPhoto and it has
taken months to get them organized again!). As I scrolled through Facebook, I
came across the latest Guerrilla Bio podcast episode. Since I had time this
morning, I decided to listen to an episode, but the one I wanted wouldn’t load.
So I scrolled back to choose one at random.
As I listened, I began to recognize that so many of my
recent thoughts were being spoken through someone else’s mouth. Yet deeper than
that the words began to resonate with my soul in a way that is deeper than
human comprehension.
Her words, as used by the Holy Spirit, gave me permission to
feel the things that have been locked deep inside of me. To feel the grief and
pain.
For weeks now I have been bothered by the fact that The Road
Trip’s story has been full of highlights and not the rawness of my current reality. There are stories that have led Alyssa and I here that haven’t been
told. From the beginning, I have wanted this trip to be about more than us,
more than this trip. I want it to be about God’s work. However, I think an
important piece of that has been missing: my vulnerability. It has not been a
journey of all excitement and bliss. There has been joy, but it has been joy in
sorrow. So I begin in obedience to share the beginning of the story.
A year ago this week my great-aunt died without warning. I
didn’t know her well, but she had always been a part of my extended family
gatherings, and people I loved knew her well. So I grieved.
In May, just after returning to California after a visit to
see my family, my 12-year-old childhood dog passed away suddenly. Again I
grieved.
A few months later we received official word that the
weakness my grandpa was experience was indeed ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). I
began to wonder what it meant to make the last of the days I had with him. And
to begin the realization that he wouldn’t be here on earth forever. Grief
became a companion again.
Come September, one of my dear friend’s 3-year old was
diagnosed with a DIPG brain tumor and given 9-12 months to live. The questions
began again within my soul. Tears came again.
Last month my cousin’s 6-month old daughter was diagnosed with
Krabbe’s disease. They were told that she will likely not make it beyond
2-years-old.
So here I am. The word “terminal” has become a daily
contemplation in my mind. Healing has entered my daily prayer vocabulary. Grief
and death are nearly constant companions. Uncertainty and fear are real.
Why do I share this? For a pity party? Certainly not! I
share because God has taken me on this journey just before embarking on The
Road Trip for a reason. I’m not sure what that reason is, but I know that the
timing is not incidental. So I will trust Him with that. Perhaps it is so that
we may more genuinely live our lives on the trip and reach more of you with our
stories. One thing I know is that my focus on God and faith has become so much
stronger over this year because He is my one Hope, my Strength, and my Promise.
In a world that has become uncertain, I am so grateful for the Anchor of my
Soul.
So I pray that in my brokenness, I may minister to you.
Whoever you are. Whatever your story is.
