You know how they say “when it rains it pours”? Well I’m drenched.
The week started like any Monday morning does – with a hint of hostility and a
never big enough large cup of coffee – wondering how the last two days flew by as fast as they did. I was as ready to tackle the week as anyone is at 9am on a Monday morning. By 10am there was not nearly enough coffee in my system to logically comprehend just how my week would change. “Hey Lis, you’re moving on Friday. Oh, right – that’s fine. I mean, I really don’t have that much stuff. I’ll just organize my time and try to get as much packing done early so I can focus on school.” Like I said, not nearly enough coffee.
So off we went – full speed through the week. It really was just like any other week: watching kiddos, never sitting at my computer for more than 10 minutes without being interrupted, watching Gilmore Girls to avoid homework, watching the kiddos again, trying to figure out what the next 6 months of my life will look like, starting to work on my homework, deciding I really need to actually sit down and work on homework – and BAM, it’s Thursday night. Excuse me, I disagree…it CANNOT be Thursday. I MOVE on Friday.
Well ladies and gents, this girl was fixing to have a come apart (a term that I now realize not many people understand – interpret as you wish). And here I sit on Friday night, somehow having moved almost all of my possessions. And homework can wait for another day, right?
You see, the house that I sit in has been my home on-and-off for a year and a half now. I sit here surrounded by memories, times past, and uncountable hours of laughter. I fell in love with Uganda in this house. I drank coffee on the front steps almost every morning. I stayed up too late here, ate french toast instead of attending church (sorry, not sorry), and built lifelong friendships here. And now it feels like I’m just walking away from that season of life. But yet again (because heaven forbid I learn a lesson the first time), I remind myself that a house does not the memories make. The people are the memories, the community built still remans, and we can make french toast in another kitchen. Yet, it feels so real.
If anyone knows me, they know when I feel overwhelmed, I shut down. I avoid everything I need to do & drown myself in any form of “procrastination”. If I feel like I can’t breathe in one area of my life, I give in and push myself even farther underwater. Hence, the Thursday night “come apart”. And the Friday morning “come apart”, tears falling on Asher’s shoulder. And the Friday afternoon “come apart” as I pushed all of my belongings into the right room, not having the desire to unpack even one thin (except for a few candles, but that’s a given). I was drowning. And I wasn’t doing anything about it. And I’m a pretty decent swimmer.
Skip ahead a few hours to this evening. I was watching kiddos again, going through the normal post-school/post-nap routine and it started to rain. And I mean rain. There were poodles falling everywhere (please remember the stressful week and the lack of sleep that has come with that, and overlook that horrible attempt at a joke). And just like that, we were off to the upstairs balcony to watch the rain fall effortlessly in front of us. It was the most serene moment. Three kiddos, completely content watching the raindrops fall, dreaming of dancing in the rain, all while trying not to get their feet wet. And suddenly it hit me, sometimes a storm isn’t so bad. And sometimes we just have to sit under the dry roof, smelling the damp air & listening to its sweet song.
There I sat, rain pouring down in front of me, unbelievably content & completely sure of who He is in the midst of the storm. And while I’m still half falling apart on the inside, I know that this is just another step forward. I was reminded that I t is progress, a challenge, a new season. So next time you feel like you’re stuck in the middle of a storm, I suggest we tuck ourselves under His dry wing, knowing that the sun will come out tomorrow & soon we will be wishing for rain again.