These are words that I never could have expected to write, words written from the most bittersweet of circumstances.
I went to the doctor, she gave me some medication (a lot of medication, really, I was leaving the country for malaria risk areas for five months). But one, I was hesitant about. I asked if she was sure I’d be okay, she said this was such a low dose that other than helping me out with my anemia, I wouldn’t be able to tell anything was different.
Neither she nor I could have predicted how wrong she was, and my reaction was so adverse and so severe that when I told our field leadership what was going on, the very same person who had first insisted that I get over my fear and apply to squad lead then asked that I step down from leadership for now.
I'm off the medication and I feel great (praise God), but I’m not going to be leading X Squad.
My heart breaks and I search for the logic in it and I wrestle until dawn, pleading for blessing, and the Lord simply says, “rest.”
And I think, “rest from what?”
Because when you prepare to leave the country for five months, you quit your job and you vacate your living space. I’ve been replaced in my office and my lease is up and I've found myself effectively unemployed and homeless and the Lord wants me to rest, and it doesn’t make sense.
And what makes less sense is the peace. Even when I disagree, there is peace.
In the midst of all that looks wrong, at my very foundation it feels right, somehow. The mess of my life is so vast that I can’t see the foundation I stand upon – but I stand nonetheless, and I listen, and I’ll obey – and isn’t that the miracle? Isn’t that the faith that proves the thing yet unseen? Isn’t that the tangible hope? (Hb 11:1)
And if I didn’t know it were true before, now it can never be disproved: that God works in ALL THINGS (yes, all) for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Rm 8:28)
Because even in this, I see good – so much good. I can’t make sense of it, and I see good.
I cannot pinpoint the practicality of my life, yet I’m unshaken. I’m so, so sad. My heart has been split open, and faster than X Squad marched in, irreparably captivating me, now I must let them back out. So I do.
And I stay in Georgia for the very same reason that a disciple of Christ is called to go on a mission trip anyway: illness or no illness, the Sovereign has seen fit to draw me nearer to Him here (for now) in this season of puzzle-upended and root-unearthed.
As His first priority would be were I to share the traveling life with the beloved 38, so it is as I navigate mornings sprinkled with honest tears of expectation unmet, preparation proved vain, and affection requested that which is the hardest to ask of love: to release.
I let go with thanksgiving and move forward with certainty, fully aware that I will not know where to place my step until I first lift my foot.
I weep and I pray and I laugh at this peace that I could never explain – and I know that I am safe and seen and taken care of.
Sentiment triggers burning behind my eyes and my chest catches … and grateful laughter escapes my lips, and I am both perplexed and delighted with the gratitude that displaces the ugly thing that would threaten to take this gift of dependence and call it ‘tragic.’
Life didn’t happen to me. Life happens, and I am fully alive. It's taken years to learn that, and it took this for me to see that I have, and anyone who isn’t me can’t imagine the depth of my celebration at that realization – but try – because it's beautiful! I am free.
Rejoice in hope, be patient in affliction, be constant in prayer. (Rm 12:12) I think I'm beginning to understand. It starts with 'rejoice.'
My life has been unearthed and I am grateful. I have found upon examining my very own roots that they drip with the water that is everlasting, and they are satisfied. They thirst, and are drenched, and they whisper of the One who works within me–and always has–to make me not who I was, but ever more like Him.
My hope is secure. Blindsided by unexpected mourning of all things known caving to the unknown, I stand firm…
and deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls. All your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. (Psalm 42:7-8)
Sweet X Squad, go change the world – you have changed me. Know that part of my heart goes with you, no one could keep it here no matter how hard they or I tried. And if any of you want to capture and mail me a penguin, we will be best friends for life. Just kidding. Mostly. Go give it to 'em.
I'm not left out in the cold (or heat, as it were). Adventures in Missions and the WR have made it clear that I am taken care of. None of us saw this coming, but I am very well taken care of. As plans form and solidify moving forward, I will keep everyone updated. There are options piled on options, and frankly, I just don't have the capacity to weigh them all right now.
Thank you for your continued prayer and support. I am eternally grateful for those who have helped me to prepare for squad leading, and those who have come around me in these recent weeks.
All my love,
kl
