perspective
Our seventh day in southeastern Oregon, days marked only by length of play, quiet sunshine and late night talks. Even in a home inhabited now by ten, seven of which are under the age of twelve, I am refreshed.
What is so invigorating about departing, if only temporarily, from the very routine and schedule that I thought was so comfortable, so familiar? Routine becomes something predictable and safe when all around you things are in constant change. Even folding laundry and doing the dishes makes you feel as though you are able to control something, predict the outcome and restore order.
This trip, taken by all but one of our family, was planned in faith. Unable to depart from his work and even unable to assist our family to the airport, I had to plan the three modes of transportation for our cross-country trip by myself. Yet as I packed, I couldn't help but feel the exhilaration of being on the verge of an adventure.
Little did I know how much of an adventure we would have getting to our destination. I thought I was being stretched taking a two flight, coast-to-coast trip with three children while pregnant.
We awoke at 4 am in the morning. Kids slept in their plane clothes, so all they had to do was put on shoes and haul their backpacks on. Realized on the way there that I had forgotten the stroller. Checked in and boarded the plane on time. Then a voice on the intercom: problems with the seal on one of the doors. An hour later, still on the runway. No way to get to our connecting flight with just a forty-five minute stopover in Atlanta. Re-booked on another flight, four hours later. De-board plane with kids, stop to get meal vouchers, thirty minutes re-booking. Kids spinning each other around across the carpeted floor, flinging themselves onto one another. Abigail, stroller-less, begins to wander. We discover a playground just beside the gate. Perfect. Kids meet other waiting little ones and start to play "spy kids." Thank you, Lord!
Four hours later, our flight cancelled. Stand on line to re-book, get another round of meal vouchers, kids playing on playground. Abigail wanders off. I panic, collide into a TSA officer who points me toward the agents at the gate. Then I circle around, finally coming back around to where several moms have ushered my little renegade back to me. She is unruffled, her gait confident, arms swinging at her sides.
Our time at Tampa Airport: 8 hours. Board a plane to Atlanta. Stop for dinner. Board plane to Portland. Five hours later, we land. Both girls asleep, I'm holding Abigail all the way to the baggage claim then plunk her down with the kids near the window. I find out about our luggage, then hear Abigail screaming. When I return to the window, she is clinging onto a woman with dark hair and glasses. She hands Abigail to me and then helps me with my luggage, which arrived perfectly on our flight.
We arrive at my brother's home at midnight, eighteen hours from when we started our trip. Fall into bed.
Halfway through the day, I asked God, "Why is this happening? Wasn't it already too much for me to take this trip alone as it was?" He answered me with a story from 2 Judges. When I had the time to look it up, these verses stood out:
"The LORD said to Gideon, "You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands. In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength has saved her, announce now to the people, 'Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead.' " So twenty-two thousand men left, while ten thousand remained."
God whittled the Israelite army to 300 men, down from 32,000. There was no way, in human terms, that a victory was possible with the odds so highly stacked against them. Any victory could not be explained away by human strength or strategy-- the Israelite people would know that it was only by God's hand that they could look back on that day with celebration and not total despair.
My life is not as grand a stage as that, but I felt that God allowed the stakes to go so high in order for me to see what He could do to deliver me and my family and to care for us. He didn't take us out of the troublesome situation, but He guided and provided for us through it-- through the playground, other children, meal tickets, peace, protection that we could not see...the list goes on beyond what I can perceive.
Leaving my routine means leaving my illusory sense of control and relying on my own daily energy reserves. Leaving my comfort zone places me in a situation where I perceive my total need for relying on God. Leaving familiarity gives God the opportunity to reveal His power and provision for me in ways I may not see otherwise.
He is faithful.
Soli Deo Gloria
What is so invigorating about departing, if only temporarily, from the very routine and schedule that I thought was so comfortable, so familiar? Routine becomes something predictable and safe when all around you things are in constant change. Even folding laundry and doing the dishes makes you feel as though you are able to control something, predict the outcome and restore order.
This trip, taken by all but one of our family, was planned in faith. Unable to depart from his work and even unable to assist our family to the airport, I had to plan the three modes of transportation for our cross-country trip by myself. Yet as I packed, I couldn't help but feel the exhilaration of being on the verge of an adventure.
Little did I know how much of an adventure we would have getting to our destination. I thought I was being stretched taking a two flight, coast-to-coast trip with three children while pregnant.
We awoke at 4 am in the morning. Kids slept in their plane clothes, so all they had to do was put on shoes and haul their backpacks on. Realized on the way there that I had forgotten the stroller. Checked in and boarded the plane on time. Then a voice on the intercom: problems with the seal on one of the doors. An hour later, still on the runway. No way to get to our connecting flight with just a forty-five minute stopover in Atlanta. Re-booked on another flight, four hours later. De-board plane with kids, stop to get meal vouchers, thirty minutes re-booking. Kids spinning each other around across the carpeted floor, flinging themselves onto one another. Abigail, stroller-less, begins to wander. We discover a playground just beside the gate. Perfect. Kids meet other waiting little ones and start to play "spy kids." Thank you, Lord!
Four hours later, our flight cancelled. Stand on line to re-book, get another round of meal vouchers, kids playing on playground. Abigail wanders off. I panic, collide into a TSA officer who points me toward the agents at the gate. Then I circle around, finally coming back around to where several moms have ushered my little renegade back to me. She is unruffled, her gait confident, arms swinging at her sides.
Our time at Tampa Airport: 8 hours. Board a plane to Atlanta. Stop for dinner. Board plane to Portland. Five hours later, we land. Both girls asleep, I'm holding Abigail all the way to the baggage claim then plunk her down with the kids near the window. I find out about our luggage, then hear Abigail screaming. When I return to the window, she is clinging onto a woman with dark hair and glasses. She hands Abigail to me and then helps me with my luggage, which arrived perfectly on our flight.
We arrive at my brother's home at midnight, eighteen hours from when we started our trip. Fall into bed.
Halfway through the day, I asked God, "Why is this happening? Wasn't it already too much for me to take this trip alone as it was?" He answered me with a story from 2 Judges. When I had the time to look it up, these verses stood out:
"The LORD said to Gideon, "You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands. In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength has saved her, announce now to the people, 'Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead.' " So twenty-two thousand men left, while ten thousand remained."
God whittled the Israelite army to 300 men, down from 32,000. There was no way, in human terms, that a victory was possible with the odds so highly stacked against them. Any victory could not be explained away by human strength or strategy-- the Israelite people would know that it was only by God's hand that they could look back on that day with celebration and not total despair.
My life is not as grand a stage as that, but I felt that God allowed the stakes to go so high in order for me to see what He could do to deliver me and my family and to care for us. He didn't take us out of the troublesome situation, but He guided and provided for us through it-- through the playground, other children, meal tickets, peace, protection that we could not see...the list goes on beyond what I can perceive.
Leaving my routine means leaving my illusory sense of control and relying on my own daily energy reserves. Leaving my comfort zone places me in a situation where I perceive my total need for relying on God. Leaving familiarity gives God the opportunity to reveal His power and provision for me in ways I may not see otherwise.
He is faithful.
Soli Deo Gloria
This is lovely and so are you. I miss you.
ReplyDelete