"I'm not afraid of storms,
for I'm learning how to sail my ship."
- Louisa May Alcott
The 3rd week of September started in what seemed a rather unassuming manner. We had a potluck at church, we visited a sweet friend in the hospital, my momma had her birthday. As the hours and days trickled on, the stress mounted. At my day job, huge deadlines approached, words of disappointment were being cast at me, and I felt like I was failing. At the pie shop, people were sick, employees were calling in, customers were upset, friends were stressed and exhausted, and the finances of it all loomed over us like a huge storm cloud. A meeting was called for Thursday and we met with trepidation. I knew what was coming, but I tried my best to avoid thinking about it. The shop is/was in trouble, and something had to be done. The meeting ended without resolution, and we agreed to postpone an official decision. Four best friends being business partners means your normal ports in the storms are unfortunately being pounded by the waves with as much intensity as you. So, I was left racked with tears, emotions, and empty cries of "WHY?" Didn't God know what terrible timing this all was? Didn't he listen when I laid my plans out - didn't he know things were FINALLY starting to fall into place with everything else?
I went through the motions on Friday and Saturday, going to a company picnic at the zoo with my hubby, making pumpkin pie for the first day of fall, and even being treated to dinner in celebration of best friend's first official paycheck (Sidenote: Mellow Mushroom - SO GOOD. I'm mad at anyone who new how good this was and never forced me to go there before now). Sunday morning came, and in church I struggled through singing words that my heart refused to respond to. Looking back, I don't remember when, or what song or spoken word triggered it, but I knew what He was telling me: This doesn't define you. We spend our earthly lives being identified by what we "do". Its nearly the first question anyone asks upon introduction. Despite all the growing pains, I loved being able to tell people "I own a pie shop" and watching their surprised faces. So young! So brave! Embarrassing as it is to admit, I loved to think what people must think of me. So much pride wrapped up into something so temporal. And when faced with the threat of it all crashing down, I panicked. And yet He says: THIS DOESN'T DEFINE YOU. This shop, nor any other fleeting, earthly thing. Its success: not you. Its failure: not you. Let it go, kid, 'cause you're mine regardless. I drank in the moment, so thirsty, like I couldn't swallow enough of the peace he was pouring my way. We spent the afternoon at Antique Alley, which was a rather unsuccessful treasure hunt, an unspoken something hanging in the air as we knew were meeting that evening to once again make a final plan. We met, and I didn't bawl my way through this time. Despite my peace, nothing was becoming any clearer. No direction laid out, no decision dawning on me with secure enlightenment. Just...nothing. Three plus hours later, we narrowed down our options, but a general air of discord still hung thick. We just didn't have an answer.
Monday morning, I read these words in my devotional:
"Never disregard a conviction that the Holy Spirit brings to you. If it is important enough for the Spirit of God to bring it to your mind, it is the very thing He is detecting in you. You were looking for some big thing to give up, while God is telling you of some tiny thing that must go. But behind that tiny thing lies the stronghold of obstinacy, and you say, “I will not give up my right to myself”— the very thing that God intends you to give up if you are to be a disciple of Jesus Christ"
In retrospect, those words seem much weightier than how I originally interpreted. In that moment, as silly as it sounds, God was calling me to give up Facebook. I needed silence. I needed to truly understand my addiction to social media; to realize my false sense of security and my embarrassing reliance on other people's opinions of me. To be free from the chains of comparison, that great and swift thief of joy. To know just how high of a throne I had placed my pride upon. It seemed small, and yet it it was, as the devotional said, "a stronghold of obstinacy". I had known for awhile how much damage it was doing, but I justified and reasoned away my own concerns. And to be honest, the first few days were uncomfortable. I reached for my phone every 10 to 15 minutes before remembering I no longer had access. I felt disconnected. But I felt good. And as an aside, it's a week and three days later, and still no regret.
The week went on, busy as always, but streaked with sunlight through that ominous cloud that seemed to follow me around. We celebrated my cousin's birthday, and my momma's; there was time with family, friends, and moments of joy. For various reasons, our meetings kept getting pushed back, and in all honesty, I thought for a fleeting moment that maybe we just wouldn't need to meet at all! Maybe this was all just a brief, though cruel, joke. But Friday came, and it was decided it must take place. I thought I was doing good, making progress, but then I broke. I just broke. I poured my heart out, to my mother, to my husband, and to my God. Let me interject here that I thank God for parents who will stand in the gap for me, who will speak God's truth to me, who will help me prepare for battle, even when the can't fight beside me. The thorn in my side was the unfairness of it all. Why now? Why me? Why us? Hadn't we paid our dues? Shouldn't this have been easier? That what-ifs, of past, present and future, felt like weights on my chest, and I just couldn't breathe. I went into our meeting empty, still directionless. I prayed for the only thing I could think of: unity between my partners. Thankfully, this is what He gave me. We concluded with a plan of action, if vague. I felt....OK. I am not ready to share exactly how we will proceed just yet. Mostly because I am a creature of habit, and change, good or bad, takes time for me. The words feel foreign on my tongue, so I'll save them until the bitterness wears off.
And, to my surprise, the tantrums weren't over. The anger, disappointment, and sadness of not getting my way bubbled up over the next few days, resulting in some raw emotions and sometimes ugly behavior. My eating and sleep schedules were off, so that didn't help either (contrary to general belief, it isn't just infants who need daily structure). Saturday was long, and offered the distraction of friendship and kitchen-work, two things I can luckily get lost in. I spent the day in a bulk food prep session, helping to stock the freezer of an about-to-pop expectant mom, and my own in the process. 4-5 hours for 12 meals - not a bad trade off! With Jon's new job, I needed all the help I could get. Downside: I smelled like onions for DAYS. Bless that man of mine, I came home to dinner prepped (thanks, Olive Garden), and a movie cued up just for me.
Sunday morning was rough (read: more bubble-over outbursts on my part). Once we got to church, I spent most of the service trying to figure out if I should say something. Do I ask for prayer? What do I pray for? What can I say or not say? And one after one, the testimonies kept coming. The words of encouragement prefaced by "I don't know who this is for, but...." The unifying truth in it all - we serve a jealous God. And if you have taken his cross, but want to cling to something else as your identity, He will do what it takes to get you to let go. And in the end, what He has is so much better than anything we could attempt to piece together for our lives. And these words cut me deep, not just because of the shop, but because of every other "thing" that hadn't gone according to my plan so far. So in a moment of embarrassing (thought it shouldn't be) brokenness, I asked for prayer. I honestly declared my emptiness, my confusion at what God was up to, and the truth I knew: that I prayed for a radical life, that in April of 2011, God started a stirring in me that hasn't quit. And I don't know if this is answer to my request for said radical life, or what. but I needed prayer. So there it was. I like keeping my walls up, but they came down that morning. And that beautiful, honest, spirit-led body of believers rallied around me. No matter how "first world" my problems seemed (and the fact that I recognize that they ARE first world problems speaks of a lesson for me, too). We prayed, we hugged, I wiped my tears, and then we moved on. To be honest, I'm not sure I said the right words in that moment. But I said the only thing that would come out. For a careful and relatively shy person like me, that moment of vulnerability was incredibly hard. But, maybe that's the point. I'm not sure that what happens or doesn't happen with this shop is God's master plan. And in that I mean that for all I know, its just a very little piece in my much bigger story - a means to an end.
I spent the remainder of the day basking in the comfort of family, of babies sleeping on my shoulder, of good southern food, four-wheelers and birthday presents. I'm grateful he knows the salve to help heal my wounds.
My husband asked me today "How does your head not explode?" and to be honest, I have no idea. So many thoughts and questions run rampant in my feeble little mind. I don't know what He's writing, but I know it isn't about me. My plot twists won't change His character. Thank goodness. Thank Him.
Love & Learning to Sail,
K
