I found out this morning that my cousin was fighting for his life.
This morning he was in a car accident on the way home from the beach with his girlfriend, a car accident that has him currently laying in the hospital on life support; this handsome lively funny kid who is supposed to have his whole life ahead of him.
My greatest fear coming on the race was that God would take one of my family or friends back home while I was gone; that something would happen and my family would beautifully band together and I wouldn’t be able to get to them or be there in those moments with them.
God blessed me with a family that doesn’t quit. Strong doesn’t begin to cover the amount of fortitude that every man and woman in my family exudes. We are deep southern warriors, resilient in heartache and pain, sickness and cancer, hardships and trials. Like any family we have our troubles and ticks, but through every trial, every hurt and heartbreak, every death and birth, we stands as one. We climb into the ring with one another, waiting in each other’s corners till they’ve taken a good hit and the bell rings and we’re there wiping the brows and pushing them to overcome their giants. When one of us is down, we rally like no other you’ve seen. When one of us is hurt, hospital waiting rooms are filled to the brim with all 40 of us and our friends. We always show up, driving in right behind the ambulance and pulling the all-nighters in hallways with cafeteria coffee and prayerful lips. We show up for dance recitals and graduations, softball games and birthdays. Holidays are always spent in the warmth of laughter and late nights and card games. They are my people, my army. When one of us needs help, the houses are full of us, weaving in and out making sure the kids get to school and the meals are taken care of and everything is in order. When houses burn, we’re there repainting walls. When jobs are lost, we’re there helping pull them back up by their bootstraps. And when one of us rowdy grandkids gets into trouble, you can bet my Grandma’s there in 10, bailing us out then kicking our ass to get back in line.
It was today that my family was shaken, struck by grief and banded together once again. And as I sit here in the Philippines feeling helpless and confused, unsure of the details and what will unfold in the next hours or days to come, I have this overwhelming sense of peace from the Lord.
Me before God was messy and doubtful and scared and unsure. I confused myself by having all these convictions and nowhere to put the good intentions because of the daily choices I was making. I always knew deep down what I believed. I knew God was real, that my life and the miracle of the universe and the beautiful birth of the child and the feelings in my soul were more than coincidence and science and big bangs. I went to church on Sundays and sometimes raised my hands and stopped for hungry homeless women and said my share of help me prayers when my heart hurt.
But if I could just tell you how I’m different. In all honesty, it was me giving God every day, telling him I have no idea what I’m doing and that I was going to do whatever it took to find this out once and for all what I was called to. His presence in me makes me something I always tried to be on my own, but never could be. Because it was never about me or how hard I tried to be a good Christian girl or not do the things I was told not to. It was always about me getting out of God’s way and giving Him the only thing my God asks of me, just to come to Him and let Him show me how incredibly and deeply He loves me. God isn’t what we’ve made religion to be. It’s not this cat and mouse game, and he was never hiding His will from me. He doesn’t do that. He won’t take anything away from me, but gives me freedom to finally be me. And it was tonight kneeling down in the gravel in a hut in Asia that I knew I was kneeling into the lap of Jesus. All I know is I wake up in the morning not haunted by the hurts of this world. And I’m so thirsty for my God. I just want to sit with him. I find myself in tears by the sight of a child’s joy or the landscape of a field in Malawi. He’s won me heart and soul. I just want to be close to my Jesus. I’ve never felt such infatuation in all of my life. I don’t have any more idea of where I’m going when my feet hit American soil. I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to get there. I don’t have the answers for what happened to Nate today, and I ask for prayers from all who read this. But by the grace of God, He is in His hands and the hands that shaped the world will hold him no matter what.
We may not be able to avoid the storms of life, but we know how to withstand them. One day He will set all things right, but until then, there’s nothing on my lips but hallelujah.
“And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock” (Matthew 7:25)
