I’m not usually a middle-of-the-fight writer. I like to wait until the dust has settled before writing about it. It’s less messy, the lessons are clearer, and I can outline the heck out of a post. (Before you freak out about my super awesome note-taking skills, I do it all in my head. Wait…that somehow doesn’t seem any better…carry on…)
But this post just won’t go away.
A couple of weeks ago, Drew stepped down from the leadership at our church. He had been an elder and the student minister. His positions had become a burden on our family that we couldn’t bear anymore. On top of that, he felt the Spirit leading him to what his calling always has been–speaking. The goals are pretty straightforward: get him to preach and speak in our area and in others.
The acting on those goals? Not so simple.
It’s a slow process, one that we’re taking daily. Just one step at a time, really.
Guys, it’s driving me crazy.
I prefer laid out plans. Goals with the five steps we need to achieve them. Not this waiting around for God to move stuff.
But here’s the kicker: I really thought I was okay with this.
I know this is what God has for us. I know that my husband has been gifted for THIS. And, truth be told, I’m sick and tired of waiting for him to get up and get going. (Or for God to tell him what to do. Or whatever.)
I’ve waited for this exact moment. And now I’m mad that it’s here.
Hormones are great, yes? Emotions too, amen?
I’ve been flat-out mad for the past few days. Why? Because things aren’t going the way I want them to, and I’m frustrated by it.
Guys? I’m so stinkin mature. Obvs.
But I am learning something. I’m learning that my safe place, my comfort zone, is in predictability. I prefer knowing exactly what’s coming and how it’s going to work out. I love seasons and holidays and, yes, liturgy. If my dad hadn’t left the Catholic Church, I might have become a nun. True story. Predictability is my sweet spot.
You’d think, with 3 kiddos ages 4 and under, that I’d have gotten that idea out of my pretty little head by now. No. In fact, I still cling to it. I have a death grip on stability, y’all. At least how my mind comprehends it.
Yet here I am, saying that it’s time to let go.
I still don’t know what that means, exactly. And I’m still terrified by it. But I’m more terrified of clinging to hard to my comfort zone that Drew doesn’t get to live out his mission. That I miss my own calling because stability sounds nice and warm and cozy.
You know what else is nice and warm and cozy? The pot of water they boil crawfish in. Just sayin’.
I’m still not ready to jump out of the pot. But at least I’m awake now.