So this past week I went on a walk. The weather is FINALLY starting to get nice around here, and I was enjoying the (semi-) good weather! (At least it was sunny, if still a little chilly. What do I expect – I live in the frigid North!)
After a few times around the neighborhood with my husband, he went back inside and I kept walking. And kept walking. I had a lot of things on my mind and the thought was that I’d think, pray… I’m not really sure what the thought was, really; I just knew I needed to keep walking. Clear my head maybe.
It took a full time around before I could even start praying. I’m not sure why. I tried, I really did, but no words came. I just knew I needed to keep walking, almost as if God was telling me to.
By the start of the second time around, I was finally starting to pray. But it was far from perfect. I love words, you know, so sometimes I feel an obligation to have the right ones at the right time. I know prayer doesn’t work that way, but still…
So I just started talking, silently. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure what my problem was. I’m sure you never have days like that.
And I started walking faster. And faster. Almost…angrily. (How does one walk angrily? Try it; you’ll know.) That’s when it hit me; I was angry.
I thought I was insecure, or fearful, as the things going on in my head were related to pursuing my calling, but turns out I was angry. Why? I was (and am!) so blessed: a wonderful husband, a warm place to sleep, food to eat, money for bills, a definite calling… so why was I angry? And I was supposed to be figuring out why I wasn’t pursuing my calling – why would anger even come into play? I LOVE what I’ve been called to do (write!); no reason to be angry.
But I was. Angry – at the world, at society, at my health issues…even at God, for allowing certain things to happen. Angry at myself for causing certain things to happen. And angry at the world, at life in general for certain things that happened that were completely out of my control.
But here’s the thing – my life is great! For all the blessings listed above and so much more, I have no reason to be angry, or depressed, or even just sad. But things have just felt…off…lately, and I haven’t known why.
Then I rounded the corner, nearly home.
And that’s when I saw it.
It may have been a little hard to see, so much so that I had to look more than once, but the remnants of a rainbow were right there, staring me in the face. And we hadn’t had rain for days, nor was any predicted.
That’s when God hit this stubborn girl over the head again.
You know how rainbows signify God’s promises? They usually come after a storm, or perhaps during it, but rarely do they show up with no storm in sight. (I’m no meteorologist; they could be more common than I think, but the thought’s still good.)
There it was, emblazoned in the sky, the promise from God that He would take care of me, that His promises are true – that He is FAITHFUL – even when there’s no storm. Even though my world seems to be okay at the moment, God still keeps his promises.
Such truth, such freedom in that.
And the cool not-so-much-an-ending-as-a-beginning to that story? I’ve been able to take steps in the days following this revelation toward my calling. And they’ve paid off, in small ways – but those small ways are still much bigger than I imagined.
The take-away? The same take-away I’ve had from Day 1 of this journey:
God is trustworthy. God is faithful.
In the storm, and in the sun.