Things were going so well and last summer, it happened all at once. God moved my path and adjusted my timetable. Again. My book could be published by now, my practice scaled to a manageable number of sessions, and my mother’s health improved. You see I had it reasonably planned out.
Instead, my first book is with a second editor and its fate uncertain. I sit here and write, line upon line, precept upon precept. I hear ad nauseam,God brings the increase, the growth, the blessing. And as much as I spew to others, “hold everything with an open hand”, today it grips me. My hours striving, getting into the pit to uncover the story, discerning what matters and what doesn’t. At times, it feels as if my heart is ripped from my chest. Yet, I write because I must, regardless of how this publishing process ends. Light reaches me at these low points, illuminating the divine thread twisted throughout the darkest part of this tapestry call my life. In the end, He assures me this is His work in me.
My practice hit a dry spell. I consider the increase of Christian counseling competition in town, hiring new office management, even questioning my heart to sit with others. But I cannot be convinced. Has my passion ebbed a bit? Perhaps, some of that. You see, after 11 years weariness and burnout happen to the most dedicated counselors.
On top of all this, my dear mother is failing. She’s a bright “life light”, a formidable force who ignites the fire of my soul driving me forward. She is flickering and I must face the truth. We talk daily about her bird watching, her meds, her house help, and aches and pains. This iconic, bigger-than-life matriarch who took care of many lost sheep is sitting down for the first time in her life. And while I am thankful for what was, she's entitled to this rest.
Finally, our church community is unexpectedly unsettled for the first time in many years. We joined a former choir of ours for the Christmas season and it touched me. The people. The music. The inspiration. And it was so much more than what I assumed would be a season of lifting Christmas spirits. It was water poured out on this dry ground. It touched my own need for solace, harmony, and life-giving words.
I long to hold all this with an open hand and determine to cease pushing for things beyond His time. As I sit here typing, I am amazed at what has happened in the last few days. My practice overflows with new and returning clients, my mom is home after a two week visit and managing on her own, and we visit an historic, downtown church and are inspired.
"Wait, Denise, please wait. Give up the need to run ahead. My Divine thread is being weaved throughout the messy tapestry of your life, " His voice tells me.
"Weave on, God who knows the end, the One who's loved me since my inception. I can leave the outcome to You."
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