We are in a sea of boxes, a sea of disorganization, a sea of organized chaos….we are in those final steps of getting a home ready to be loaded on a truck for interstate travel. We are in limbo. One foot in, one foot out. And yet, just as I am looking around and begin to ask God what in the world He has asked us to do…..I see a posting about Isaiah 43. Silly Kim. How can I question His plan when He, in all his power, made a road through the desert….asked of His people to trust Him, because He has already made the way. Yet, here I am typing, looking at a sea of boxes and asking Him just that…..my Human is in fully force.
I suppose this season of “lasts” has made me a tad more emotional than I want to be, but my Human is honestly starting to freak out. Still, I trust. I trust God’s plan and I trust Lee’s direction. Still freaking out. I sat in church Sunday and honestly can’t tell you three words the pastor said…I was too busy looking around soaking it all in….that last Sunday to sit in “our chosen pew” (Cause ya’ll know us Baptist got assigned seating!)….the last Sunday to get those sweet and precious hugs from what we refer to as “widow row.” Yet, I sat there realizing I no longer “fit.” One foot in, one foot out. God is already moving me forward, if I keep trusting Him to do so and not force my feet to stay planted. (What my Human self desires to do.)
There was the last time at Marketplace Grill, Mr. B’s, Slim Chickens, last visits as a resident with dear friends….the last time our Josh would board a plane back to college from this airport. I know we will be back, but never again as a resident. We will be visitors. That’s an odd notion to wrap your head around during this process.
There are so many boxes and totes…we are literally moving a life. Twenty-eight years of marriage, of life….boxed carefully and ready to be transported. To the outsider, just stuff, but to me….my life. From the silly notes Josh wrote to his Dad many years ago, the tote full of at least 100 matchbox cars, a box full of Meg’s memories from pageants, high school…..finding my bouquet from my sister’s wedding (yes, it was silk)….our wedding album….treasures that have been passed down from grandparents, parents, friends….old Bible study books with notes that fit that season….a life…in boxes. Realizing I need to stop soon and write the history to certain items so that those memories, those facts are passed down and that item doesn’t just become stuff. (My Granny Page was a master historian. I treasure that quality so much now that she is gone and I can look at things passed down and her notes remind me of why it was given to me…what it meant to the person it came from.)
So, it’s here. Forty-eight hours until we head that way to find housing and one week until the movers pull into the driveway. Moving a life…..one foot in and one foot out….with the hope of His promise that He has made the way so that soon I will type…both feet in.
Isaiah 43:16-21 MSG
16-21 This is what God says,
the God who builds a road right through the ocean,
who carves a path through pounding waves,
The God who summons horses and chariots and armies—
they lie down and then can’t get up;
they’re snuffed out like so many candles:
“Forget about what’s happened;
don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert,
rivers in the badlands.
Wild animals will say ‘Thank you!’
—the coyotes and the buzzards—
Because I provided water in the desert,
rivers through the sun-baked earth,
Drinking water for the people I chose,
the people I made especially for myself,
a people custom-made to praise me.