Be Still in the Process

Well autumn weather has finally hit Seattle. Cue a cozy, pajama wearing, vanilla chai filled, rainy day. As I laid in bed this morning, my thoughts volleyed between “it is okay to be where you’re at today” to “planning” my day of rest—yes, scheduling the “relaxing” things. It was in the midst of these thoughts, the bubbles of sadness of missing Kenya, “my kids”, and the waves of missing my cousin and friend that I was reminded that “The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still” (Ex 14:14). My heavenly daddy has this in his hands, I don’t have to figure it out, sort out my thoughts, or “get over these things” because He is with me,  quiets me by his love (Zephaniah 3:17). I can take each hour and emotion that comes today and have peace because when I am weak He is strong.

                I can admit that in a way I can identify with C.S. Lewis’ broken ramblings of grief. Presently, his remarks that “and, grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen” as well as his admonition that “there is spread over everything a vague sense of wrongness, of something amiss. Like those dreams where nothing terrible occurs—nothing that would sound even remarkable if you told it at breakfast-time—but the atmosphere, the taste, of the whole thing is deadly” (A Grief Observed).

                That is exactly how this transition time has felt. Things at home are “the same” but I’m not—and that’s right where things need to be. It doesn’t mean that this time is easy, or enjoyable. It doesn’t mean that I don’t surprise myself with my thoughts about materialism, poverty, even grief. But overreaching I know this is a season. It will always have an effect on me—to degrees I will always miss the time I spent in and the people I met in Kenya, my cousin, my friend, and the beautiful kids I was privileged to know. And that’s okay.

                It’s okay to be exhausted, to be sad, to be indecisive because of all I’m processing. It’s okay to need time. Today I will rest in the fact that I am where I am, right now, for a reason. I don’t have to, nor will I really ever “get over” these things. They will be woven into my life, settled in my heart, and utilized for my good in time. Today I will listen to the rain, tuck a cozy blanket around me, pour another cup of chai, and let it be.