On July 31st, my apartment lease was up in Asheville; ergo, I did what many post graduates find themselves doing: I moved back in with my parents. Burke County is a lovely place and it does not lack any small town charms, but after living in Asheville for five years, it is not my first choice of places to be. Don't misunderstand me, I adore my parents and my brother. They are hilarious and fun to be around and extremely admirable* people, but I just don't love living here after I've lived in a city like Asheville. And if you've known me for very long at all, you'll probably know that I love sleep. I don't love sleep in the same way that I love fro-yo or softball, though. I really, really love it. Probably because it means several hours without overly analytical thought patterns. The only issue (read: it's not THAT much of an issue, because I can sleep anywhere) with getting ample sleep at my parents' house is that I have to sleep on the couch for the time being. The mattress that was in my room here, I took with me to my apartment in Asheville. It's about as old as I am, so I decided to donate it to a lady who lives in my apartment complex who knows somebody who knows somebody who recycles mattresses, or something like that.
As a result of abandoning my mattress, I am sleeping on the couch in the living room for the time being. Dad has graciously promised to purchase a new mattress for me when I have finished sorting through all of the boxes I brought home with me (which are quite a few). Some of you may think to yourselves, Oh, that's awful. That poor girl doesn't have a mattress and her father is bribing her to clean up her stuff. Yeah, well, that may be so, but it's not that big of a deal for two reasons: 1.) I'm about to be without a mattress for eleven months, so I might as well get used to it. 2.) Bribing me with a new mattress is excellent motivation to go through and organize my things, and my Dad knows that and is using it to his advantage. Shrewd. *I told you my parents were admirable.
So, while I'm sleeping on the couch, I hear everything that goes on in my house early in the morning (Sometimes. Sometimes my family is incredibly stealthy.) — Mom makes coffee and gets in the shower, Dad goes to get coffee after his shower and goes to his office (which is in our basement), Mom sits and reads the bible and bribes my cat with treats to stop meowing, Mom leaves. Dad comes up later to make sure I'm not sleeping my life away, but doesn't mind giving me another hour, and yes, he tells me, I can go sleep in their bed for a little while.
Sometimes I stay awake after my parents have left for the day, and I really just don't want to move. So, I'll lay on the couch, and I'll speak with Jesus. I'll ask him to change my heart and my focus about living at home. I'll ask him to prepare my heart for ministry. I'll ask him to provide someone to be a foster guardian for my cat, Zeus. I'll ask him anything, really. (Here's a picture of Zeus on my "bed.")
August 18th is a very important deadline for my squad. It is the deadline before launch, meaning if it is not met, you don't leave for Guatemala. Admittedly, I was fretting about it, but it was the one thing I wasn't praying about. I don't know why, exactly. I was just feeling insecure about whether or not the World Race was where God wanted me to be because I hadn't had amazing and drastic fundraising stories, it had all been gradual, through events and just normal, every day kindnesses people would afford me.
What God recently taught me is that while He is definitely amazing and faithful through the incredible stories of people who get fully funded with one check, he is also faithful in the the gradual, individual people and events that He has provided for me. He is faithful in the $20 donation and in the $2,000 donation.
On the night before the final checks were due for the upcoming deadline, I laid face down on my couch and begged God to confirm that this is where He wants me, and for him to do it financially. Truly, while I was praying, I was doubting. I wasn't sure that I would meet the deadline. I was in tears, pleading with God to allow me to start the Race. I fell asleep that way.
I sent my teammates a message asking them to pray for me the next day. They were extremely encouraging, as per usual, but my mood was not lifted. I was anxious.
Then I went to give a World Race presentation at the church where my grandparents went until they passed away. My family also attended the church until I was 10 or 11, so it was a very fundamental part of my childhood. As soon as we drove up, I was overcome with emotion. I missed my grandparents, and I saw faces filled with warmth and love, though they were a little more aged than they were when I was 5, they were familiar.
This tiny church, where there are about 20 regular congregation members, gave me $1,000, and then they sang about God's great love and prayed for me.
God had restored my faith and affirmed my calling.
That night I looked at my support account and it was $98 away from $8,000.
My deadline on the 18th was for $6,500.
God, through my supporters, has surpassed my expectations. He has taken my little faith and he has grown and watered it. My heart is full. As of today, I'm HALFWAY FUNDED. This is a MIRACLE. I would love nothing more than to be fully funded before I leave, but for now today is miracle enough. I am incredibly excited about more and more people coming on board with my Race and seeing God work through me and (especially) in me. I am so, so thankful.
So, for those of you who are struggling with believing that God is faithful, and that he will fulfill his promises, communicate that with Him. Even if you're doubtful. He hears you when you pray. He hears you when you sing. He hears you when you whisper with uncertainty. He hears you when you lay face down on your couch and plead for purpose and provision. That He hears us when we call on him, in and of itself, is a miracle. We are not alone.
Please pray for the members of my squad who have not yet met the August 18th deadline. I am praying, too. God hears us.
Grace and peace,
Sarah
