It has been such a year at our house. We began in January with hope for a new year, but wondered what it would look like. For eight months this year my husband looked for work–a job, a career, a way to make the payment on the house, the braces, buy food at the store. It was exhausting, exhilarating, faith-building, faith-questioning–a mosaic of feelings and emotions and daily walking in the faith that the same Jehovah Jireh that provided the ram for Abraham would provide for us. And He did. In small and big, minute and huge ways. From walking into Kroger and finding wonderful, expensive (I’d never pay that much for shampoo regardless of how much my husband ever makes!) organic shampoo on clearance–and it lasting rather inexplicably until husband had a job to somehow making the money last until right before that first paycheck, it happened this past year in our house.
There was that last day of summer, the day before I HAD to make a decision whether to send my kids off to school and try to find a job. That day when I lay on the floor in abandon, weeping and crying out to the Lord “I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE.” And the peace that came, as it always does in the storm when I’ve taken my eyes of Him and am looking at the wind and waves and am sinking quickly into the fear the world gives and out of the peace that only He gives. And like that, the next day the call came, the job he thought would not be, was.
We have spent the fall readjusting to a paycheck, a job, Daddy gone to work all day instead of his Starbucks or library branch office. Fixing things we had put off, looking for opportunities to help others as we were helped, wondering why we went through the experience we did and why it ended when and the way it did. Wrestling with the theology of sometimes doing something you don’t feel you were born to do or were even trained to do, but it appears that God wants you to do to take care of your family.
There have been braces, cicadas, camping trips, family time at the beach, a half marathon (my husband, not me!), hope, despair, and a bedrock of faith in God as a foundation for it all. An Ebenezer year (of the biblical kind, not Dickens) for us, no doubt.
As the new year stretches before us, like a field of snow with no footprints before us, I wonder what it holds for our family, the Church, the nation and the world. “Behold, I am making all things new!” comes to mind this morning, as we watch in anticipation and quiet faith for what the Lord will do this year.