I often find myself trying to explain to my younger daughter, Sarah, why I can’t just move back to Arkansas. How can I expect her to “get” it at 14 when I didn’t “get” it until I was almost 40? It’s about obedience, discernment, patience, and a whole lot of other things that are just beyond her comprehension at this point. It doesn’t help that her dad isn’t the least bit concerned about her spiritual growth. “Dad said God didn’t sell your house, the realtor did.” That sort of thing.Anyway, try as I might, I haven’t been able to give her a specific reason. I mean, I know God wants me here, but why? She points out that I gave up my house, my new lawnmower, and my new grill to live in an older house with less room and fewer closets. I point out that all those things are material, and He wants us to store up treasures in heaven, not here on earth. Couldn’t we have just given all of our stuff away? Did we have to move? As it turns out, yes we did.
First of all, I have to admit that I didn’t want to send my kids back to their dad for the school year, but they weren’t ready for the move, and since I had been clearly instructed not to fight over them, I knew I would have to let them go. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I do not trust him (for reasons that I shall not go into at the moment), and I worried constantly. I had never been a worrier, but this was so much bigger than me. Nagging doubt plagued me. Had I done the right thing? How could I in good conscience send my kids into enemy territory? This can’t possibly be what God wants! You call yourself a mother? Satan had himself a heyday.
Lesson one: Let go and let God.
Hadn’t I told my children when they were young that our God is so BIG that they had no reason to fear anything or worry that He couldn’t handle it? Did I not believe this myself? In fact, during thunderstorms, I would comfort them by telling them that thunder is just God’s way of reminding us how big He is. Then when the thunder rumbled and the windows rattled we’d say aloud “we hear you, God.” Now here I was in the midst of this HUGE storm holding up this flimsy umbrella that I called faith. I definiteIy needed a bigger umbrella. (I hear you, God.) I would have rather had lightning strike my ex, and I admit to having requested that a few times, but that isn’t what God had in mind. Nope, not at all. Instead, He was going to teach me to trust Him. Really trust Him. In. All. Things.
I began to pray like I’d never prayed before. I wanted to know why He brought me here. He said “Wait and see.” Sheesh! The patience thing, again? I wanted Him to show me what I was supposed to do. He said “Trust me.” I wish I could say that I immediately said, “Here. Take it. It’s too big for me, and I can’t handle it. It’s all Yours.” People, please. We’re talking about me here, so you know that’s not what happened.
Then my older daughter, Lindsey, called me. Things were not good. (cue the lightbulb) It was going to get worse before it got better. The enemy was surrounding, and my hands were tied. It was time to surrender.