And really, it's all because of this little word, trust. I haven't much of it.
And I've struggled with it. Wrestled back and forth with this simple concept of "trust in the Lord with all of your heart."
Because, I'll be honest, I haven't struggled with it much before. And it's not for lack of trials in life either...but simply, because I am so far out of my depth and comfort zone that I just can't even deal.
Yes, I've experienced deep, wounding hurt--the death of my father, loneliness that makes the soul ache, the betrayal of a dearest friend....but even in those times, I have been able to see the hand of God weaving His threads of grace into the life tapestry. I've seen His peace on the dying face of my father and felt the assurance that I will see him again the World to come. I've felt the never failing love of my family and friends when I've been lonely or betrayed. I've seen His hand opening doors wide and clearing the path on which I'm to trod.
But. This, though maybe not as wounding as past trials, has stretched my soul hard. Because of the call to blind trust.
I am a planner. I like order. I like certainty.
I have the soul of an adventurer and a heart yearning with wonderlust--but I prefer the adventures of books and the wonder of daydreams.
I'll be real, I'd love to see the views from the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, but would likely never make the trek to the top. I'd love to see what lies beneath the waves of the deepest ocean, but would rather watch it on a documentary.
I am the person who stops to ponder and breathe in the beauty of the Smokies on a drive through the hills of Appalachia, but would be held back from wandering those hills alone by a crippling fear of snakes.
I don't do spontaneity. I just might take said hike, provided I had a few days to plan, acquire the right shoes, make sure I had my trusty snake wrangler (aka husband), and ready myself for adventure. I need to be mentally, emotionally, and attire-ly ready for everything.
I'm a homebody. I'm a small town girl. I like routine and like that the biggest news in my cozy, Kentucky town is that the water tower is being repainted in an American Flag mural.
So that's me. I don't do uncertainty and am more than happy to spend my adventure in front of the fire, with coffee and a good book.
But, God stretches us, doesn't He? He pulls and gently prods and asks us to trust in His plan, not ours.
And even though this plan of His hasn't turned out at all like the one I had in mind...the past few months and the looming year ahead has been a harder pill to swallow than usual.
See, I had it all planned. I would grow up and probably marry a farmer--not because I particularly liked farmers but it seemed like that's what he'd be. We'd renovate our little farm house, fill it with children, and sit in rocking chairs on the front porch and talk each night.
But then I went to college and met a dark, handsome,brilliant and brooding pre-med student, and knew (even though I swore never to marry a doctor) that, Golly Moses! God's plan was so much better!
So, my plans adjusted. We'd marry, wait until after med school to start our family, and live happily ever after.
And God laughed. After an engagement, break-up, second engagement, rainy wedding day, four moves, and year and a half after getting married, we were surprisingly blessed with our little girl.
So I'm no stranger to plan changes and have learned to grin and bear it because "Expectations ruin relationships."
But, this one. Oh, this one has been hard.
Because when I said, "I do" to that medical student with the calling from God, I didn't realize how much that calling would cost. And now that the calling is being fulfilled, I've struggled with being bitter at the One who gave that call.
That calling didn't just require lots of studying to pass those medical board exams, but required MONTHS of being alone while he spent every waking moment studying to excel at those exams.
That calling was not just to become a doctor but to be a neurosurgeon, one of the most competitive and demanding, and least family friendly specialties.
Wanna hear a not-so-funny, all too real joke?
"How do you hide a dollar from a neurosurgeon? Tape it to his kid's forehead."
So, this is life. The days, literally, days, spent without seeing the husband. Months spent in different states while he's on his away rotations. The endless hours of solo-parenting. The completely empty bank account that funded his travel expenses to interview at different residency programs across the country, in hopes that he'll be one of the 400 applicants that will actually get one of the 193 spots open this year. The crying during baby's first birthday as we walked the aisles of the toy store to only "look and hug" toys that we couldn't afford to buy since the bank account was overdrawn.
The uncertainty of not having much of a choice in where he will match. Of knowing that it's a gamble and we really will end up wherever the residency logarithm matches us, be it near or far. That wherever we end up will be unfamiliar and quite possibly be thousands of miles from family, and I will mostly be doing life alone for the next seven years since residents are called that because they reside and spend pretty much every waking moment at the hospital.
So I've spent the last few months burying deep the mourning for the life I planned and the resentment of the sacrifices required of this one, because my sweet, tired husband doesn't need another stress added upon his weary shoulders.
And I've railed at God--- albeit unconsciously, by pulling further and further away from resting in Him. I've resented His perfect plan because frankly, it's hard. And I don't like it. And why would He give a calling to my husband that requires such familial sacrifice?
Is it fair, God, that he's missed almost every big milestone in our daughter's first year?
And so, as you can see, I'm learning. Learning that He never said His way would be easy. Never guaranteed that I would like this path or that it would match my dreams.
I'm also learning to try to let go of my plans, to release the tightly clenched fist of dreams that I want so desperately and see the blessings of letting the Father have control. Trying to look at the past and see His faithfulness in exceeding the dreams I once had and trusting that He will do the same for my future. Trying to release the thousands of fears that plague my heart about the great unknown and keeping the trust verse on repeat in my mind.
When I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God whose word I praise--in God I trust and am not afraid Psalm 56:3-4
And it's hard. I'm not completely there yet...but I'm taking it day by day and reminding my quietly adventurous heart that it's time to prove it's mettle and live life boldly and courageously, because I have been promised that the best is yet to come. And so, the adventure begins...
There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.
C.S. Lewis
