Hindsight

Recently, I was on a “life high” even though it was coupled with a very deep low. I was able to make sense of a lot of “things” and dreams were being realized, miracles were being witnessed, and I was on the cusp of such huge “life things.” I remember a friend’s daughter hit a low point and I emailed her to encourage her. I was walking through some significant issues but I was at a point where hindsight was on my side and was able to try and share what I had learned over the past few years. Even though events were painful and those events seemed to eclipse the joy every now and then, I could see how God had carefully orchestrated where I was to that point. I was coming to the end of a long long long waiting period. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could almost touch the finish line.

I’ve come to realize that God only grants us the gift of hindsight. Being able to look in life’s rearview mirror is enough for me to trust that, although it is difficult, foresight is unnecessary when I fully trust that God’s plans for me are so much greater than I can even fathom. I probably wouldn’t even believe it anyway if I had a glimpse into the future. I was at a point where it was easier (it’s never easy, is it?!??) to recognize how smaller events and experiences made up the larger plan unfolding like all the essential border pieces of a puzzle that help you build your structure.

Then, I hit a bump in the road. I’m careful not to post too much about the visa process as it not only involves me and it’s not solely my story to tell. I’ll just say that the bump caused me to come to a screeching halt. Screeching as in feet in the ground AND screeching out of my mouth, screeching the unholiest of vocabulary. What. Happened. Excuse me, God, we were on the “downhill slide” so I thought.

I was back on the roller coaster again. I hadn’t asked to go on another ride but I found myself soaring through ups and downs and blasting through a range of emotions. “I got this. No biggie. I trust” quickly changed to “Oh #$% it’s not in me. I can’t. I’m exhausted.”  Luckily, some amazing support people started to move and intercede on my behalf. I couldn’t do it. But God could. They could. Slowly and surely, I was back up, broken but beginning to heal from disappointment, confusion, anger, fear, and the list goes on. I realized that I had to take a dose of my own medicine--heed my own advice. I looked back at the events that led me to today. We’ve literally witnessed miracles through this visa journey. We have favor. We have been spoiled by God’s goodness. This “obstacle” is another part of our story that must happen. It’s another “let this cup pass” moment, but I know it can’t. There’s more to our story, and I know another miracle must be around the corner. I’ve asked for it, and I’m expecting it.

Along with the gift of hindsight, I’ve been able to keep trudging through the thick of waiting because of a few recurring dreams I had. When I had them (4 total), I knew they were important and I knew they were for a future time. They all had different “settings” but the events were the same. In each one, I was at an intersection and a dark road lay before me. All of the other roads were light except the one that took me “home” or to my destination. I had to walk through darkness, unable to see obstacles and unrecognizable images who sought to distract me or persuade me from continuing to my destination. I could not see how far the road stretched. In none of the dreams had I ever reached my destination. In two, I woke myself up screaming, too fearful of what grabbed at me in the darkness. In one of the dreams (3rd), a presence stood next to me as I wearily faced yet another dark road. I was exhausted. I had enough energy to muster “Not again. Not another one.”  I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other to even face the daunting challenge. The “faceless” presence told me that He would give me a glimpse of what was at the end of the road but I could not see any of the road itself. I remember seeing myself and being astonished as I watched a playful version of me in a vast ocean. I had never seen myself so happy. I was laughing like a child and overcome with joy. When I got to this past disappointment, familiarity rose from the disbelief. I’ve been here before. I can’t and won’t see the road but I know I have to keep facing forward and walk at the pace with which I am able minute by minute. I know that this path will be somewhat forgotten when I reach my destination, and I know that acknowledging and feeling it right now are crucial to my/our story. I know there’s a joy that I’ve never known and a happiness that will be new that I will experience at the perfect time. 

As usual, this brings me back to Habakkuk 2:3, a verse that I recite to myself on a daily basis.

For the revelation awaits an appointed time;

    it speaks of the end

    and will not prove false.

Though it linger, wait for it;

    it will certainly come

    and will not delay.

Are you waiting for something?

Regarding the future, I bank on Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” When I need something tangible, I look in my rearview mirror.

Ever so grateful for my support "people"! You know who you are.

Danielle

A love story.....

Allow me to tell you a love story. Pull up a chair. Grab a glass of wine. I’m not sure how long it will be. But, this I promise you. As usual, I won’t bore you with just a feel-good happy ending story. Instead, I’ll expose the painful process that makes it beautiful. Beauty can be found in ashes. I know this.

This story started so long ago, long before I was even privy to the introduction. And it is still being written.  But I’ll let you glance into the pages.

This story begins with a little blonde haired, freckle-faced girl born and raised in Mississippi. She was raised in the church with a firm foundation in Jesus. She was born into a good and respectable family. She loved well and was well loved.  As the years went by, she dreamed of her future family, and husband, as many young girls do. Early on she dreamed of a family that rivaled a Benetton ad in terms of children—the seed was planted early on for adoption. She prayed for “tall, dark and handsome.” Years passed on and formidable years were spent dating, studying, and hanging out with friends. Somewhere in there, prejudices crept in. Her family raised her to judge a person by his or her character and not by highest education level or skin color. Still, she did. During those crucial years, instances and painful life experiences caused the prejudices to grab hold and fear soon ensued. For her, it was Black men. Of course, there were “exceptions” and those who were befriended but the generalities remained. Coincidentally during this time, she stopped attending church due to disbelief in the legalism and the whole “system” of religion.  

Fast forward through years of “spinning wheels” while living, learning, dating, etc. After a strong need for community and further spiritual development, she found a church that fit her needs and wants. It was in this church that she was moved to take a risk and go on missions in 2006. One trip led to another and in 2007, she took a big step and signed up to lead a team to South Africa. Never had she had this desire due to silly associations with the past. Africa had become the “origin” of pain and discomfort and she had sworn she would never step foot on that continent. However, she was obedient to the nudge and went. She instantly fell in love with the country and the people. She learned about Apartheid and heard the stories from all racial groups from an “outsider” perspective. So much of the struggles and triumphs stemming from recent integration reminded her of her upbringing in the South. In hearing stories of discrimination of Colored and Black groups, she began to see herself. As if she was looking in the mirror only to find guilt, ignorance, and shame looking back. 

She came back. She went back in 2008. She fell deeper in love with the country and the people.

She came back. She went back in 2009. She fell deeper in love with the country and the people. But this time, she fell in love with a boy. She began to see a friend there that she had met in 2007 and seen again in 2008 a little differently. Late nights she spent asking questions, hearing answers and perspectives that she never imagined, and digging deeper to find herself and discover what went wrong in her own outlooks.

She came back. It was only when back that she realized her true feelings and he, his. She dove deeper from afar but kept it safe to herself.

She went back in 2010 with another team but stayed an extra week to seek spiritual restoration and solitude. She was able to see the boy off and on and continue conversations. 

In the beginning of 2011, she went back independently to South Africa to spend more time with the boy. They wanted to be together but there were so many logistics between them, as they were worlds away. Logistics intruded far more than the ocean and miles themselves. She lost vision and gave up. She let too many opinions take her vision off what she felt and knew to be true.

The rest of 2011 and most of 2012 were dark. She felt a despair and regret that was unimaginable. She had not necessarily made decisions regarding what she felt was best for her. Instead, fear and distrust had crept in. She had doubted how big her God is and felt that she was not in alignment with where she was supposed to be. She yearned for reconciliation. Days were dark. She knew the highs of temporary “band-aids” she found to place over her wounds that kept the pain at bay for a bit. She knew the lows over another disappointment. She knew the feeling and pain of fresh hot tears that were uncontrollable. Friends knew her unpredictable emotional state.  

Although it was still sensitive, she felt the nudge to go back to South Africa although she probably would spend little to no time with the boy. But that was okay. Her first priority had always been to serve and the people that she would love while there. However, she expected the sting of familiarity without reconciliation. As months of preparation continued, changes happened with logistics. She needed a ride from the airport that would allow her to feel safe at almost midnight miles from home. She would need rides across town on weekends when she would be there.  She was forced to swallow any pride and ask the boy. He agreed to help. Worry set in. What if he didn’t show up? What if it was awkward?  She knew there were conversations that needed to be had regarding what had already happened. The word “closure” already evoked such a physiological response that it was unbearable. 

The plane ride to South Africa in November 2012 was full of emotions. What started out as excitement morphed to fear and regret as the hours passed, especially between Amsterdam and Cape Town. Waiting for the baggage was spent halved between dreading the situation on the other side and looking forward to what was on the other side. 

The boy was there, as he said he would be, on time, smile included and quick to help.

They hung out most every night after her serving activities were completed. They laughed. They continued conversations that began in 2009. He challenged her to think beyond her capacity. She felt that no time had passed. She felt as if “this” had always been. They sat in silence and just enjoyed being in the same spot in a very big world. They had dinners. The boy took her wine tasting [her love language]. They spent time with her friend Candice who came for one of the weeks. They roamed around Cape Town. They did not, however, have that closure conversation.

She came back. But, she won’t be going back this year because he will be coming here instead. A visa application and wedding planning are in the works. 

Their story is beautiful and perhaps  one of the single best love stories of all time.  It’s a beautiful story because it is not just about a boy and a girl. It’s also about a God that they both share who riddled their story with themes of reconciliation, sacrifice, forgiveness, redemption, mercy, grace, abundance, courage, and 2^nd chances. It is beautiful because we practice what He first showed to us. Hindsight can be breathtaking. Beauty from ashes. 

Even through the disappointment, she believed. Her God heard her questions. He saw her tears. He cried with her. But, he knew the timing would be best served later to fulfill a purpose together. Only He knew the plans he had for not just her, but for the both of them together. 

For still the vision awaits its appointed time;
    it hastens to the end—it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it;
    it will surely come; it will not delay.

Habakkuk 2:3

Oh, and “tall dark & handsome?” Touché, God, touché.

 Cape Point: a place in South Africa where the two oceans {Indian & Atlantic} meet

Happy Easter

This is my favorite week of the year--a week of reflection before my favorite holiday [Easter].

Recently, I started reading “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” as part of the Mom’s group I attend [yes, even though I’m not a mom]. The book has been informative yet dry for me. I have found it somewhat boring and I have not really appreciated it. Until today. I realized that a few weeks ago, I was receiving messages that would carry me through some upcoming difficult times. And then those times hit.

I was created a people-pleaser. I was groomed to “do good” and be the best I can be while doing it. I love helping others. I give 150% at work and in play. I do things for the right reasons even though I sometimes make mistakes. The best lesson my daddy (remember I’m Southern and we proudly say “daddy”) taught me is: Never look at WHAT someone did, look at WHY they did it. You can imagine how hard it hit when my character was attacked recently. It’s happened in a few significant situations over the past month and a half. It’s hard when not everyone has that simple nugget of wisdom that my daddy instilled in me at a young age. I felt violated, betrayed, bewildered and physically unsafe. In turn, the anger became overwhelming. The verse that I keep reciting to myself is Exodus 14:14: The Lord will fight for you - you need only to be still.

One night when sitting on my bed partying [pity partying, that is], entrenched in quite a few “head shaking” and “expletives shouting” moments [Sorry, cover your ears/eyes God], it hit me. I ran to get my “Emotionally Healthy” book and instinctively, I knew exactly where to turn. I re-read the chapter on where Jesus was questioned. In doing right, he disappointed so many.

He disappointed family members.

He disappointed friends.

He disappointed the disciples.

He disappointed [and regularly rebuked and pissed off] the religious leaders.

So...I’m in good company.

The timeliness of my “situations”make this week even more reverent as I reflect upon the meaning of this week and Good Friday.

When I think of Good Friday and the crucifixion, the following words come to mind:

suffering. unjust. undeserved. cruel. dark. punishment. tears. loneliness. pain. sadness. horror. ridicule. betrayal. separated. broken.

It had to happen to complete the unfolding story. It would become a part of so many others’ stories.

Within recent situations, I felt those same words on a personal level.

And then, I’m reminded. Beyond their limited perspective, on the horizon, would be: resurrection. The following words come to mind:

celebration. hope. light. justice. goodness. redemption. healing. joy. warmth. reconciliation. strength. vision. grace.

Within other recent situations, I have also felt these words on a personal level.

So on this Easter, bask in your pain. It has to happen to complete YOUR unfolding story. It’s also a part of someone else’s. Feel it, every part of it. Decide how to use it. Who needs to hear your story? Share it, ALL of it, uncensored. Know that in the near future, a resurrection is coming. There will be celebration. Joy will be abundant. Redemption will come.

Happy Easter with love,

Danielle

Remembering the Best Christmas Gift...

What has been your best Christmas gift so far?

To date, mine has been a hope chest that an old boyfriend made for me. It is a beautiful chest made of cedar and holds remnants of my past and manifestations of hope for what will be fulfilled in the future. I am a softie on the inside (I know, the exterior can be gruff) and treasure tokens of sentiment—hand written cards, unexpected or hand-made gifts, kind words, etc. I loved that he spent the time and energy to plan and build this gift. He probably has no idea how much that meant and still means to me. Well, he will when this post goes public….

Today, an appreciation for another gift came to mind as I sat in church service trying to find healing for a week of wounds. This gift should have always been in the forefront of my mind having had 34 Christmases thus far but it hasn’t struck me as much until this year. I’m most thankful for the gift of salvation which allows me my personal relationship with God.

A couple weeks ago, the verse Exodus 14:14 came to mind which says: The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. I thought it was in relation to something that had happened that week, not realizing it would be something I needed to hear in the week to come.

I know you know this kind of week that I had last week. It wasn’t just one thing or person that caused devastation but it was the daily disappointments that confounded thoughts that swirled in my mind about not being good enough, not deserving specific things, or feeling that when things are too good to be true they are. Every day made me grow more and more disheartened. Disappointment quickly turned into anger and I began to just “lose my religion” (remember that phrase?!) and just start asking a million and one WHYs and a few “Where are you Gods?”

I was reminded that I cannot “lose my religion” and saw the gift of salvation through different eyes. When I was younger, I saw God as something to fear—hence my weekly reciting the sinner’s prayer “just in case” and avoiding questioning the way things are out loud. The God I’ve met during adulthood when I came into my own faith is one who allows me to question and reminds me that I will not lose that gift of salvation. I know that even though I shook my fist in the air and questioned, God never left my side during that week and won’t in any other week. In fact, I’m sure he chuckled at my spiking levels of immaturity and nearsightedness. Although I see it as still being written, my story was written long ago. Because he made me a Type-A worrier oh-so-impatient control freak, he knows I constantly want to read ahead into the next chapter or peek toward the end—so of course he understands my humanness and would never punish me for it. My visual representation tends to be me walking alongside a father figure—sometimes I’m walking next to him and happily chatting, sometimes I’m mad and sullen and refuse to talk but still see him quietly walking beside me giving me my space to feel various emotions, and sometimes I see myself running ahead (we know how that story ends—usually a trip or two).

There’s a song by Audrey Assad that fits the mood quite nicely. She beautifully illustrates redemptive suffering and pain and how sometimes you have to just be in the pain because it has a purpose and that you just want God to be with you. Here’s a link to Youtube for the song and lyrics. It’s worth hearing for sure so go on ahead right now and click here to listen!

Back to Exodus 14:14, here’s how one commentary (Matthew Henry) describes it: “It is always our duty and interest, when we cannot get out of troubles, yet to get above our fears; let them quicken our prayers and endeavors, but not silence our faith and hope. Stand still, think not to save yourselves either by fighting or flying; wait God's orders, and observe them. Compose yourselves, by confidence in God, into peaceful thoughts of the great salvation God is about to work for you. If God brings his people into straits, he will find a way to bring them out.”

And so I wait, but with a greater appreciation of a very special gift this holiday season.

A side note:

Of course, I was reminded of the gift of friendship and community throughout the entire time as close friends listened to me complain, say really stupid and asinine things, and question things that seem really insignificant (but thankfully didn’t remind me of that). A huge shout-out to this 4-some:

• 1) Amanda who never looked irritated each time to on her door at work to ask yet another “Do you think x, y, z?” and checked in often during the day
• 2) Xuyen who agreed to eat or Shik Do Rak however many times I needed comfort food and as always indulged me some very candid discussions about the stupid things I’ve done in the most laughable way
• 3) Jenn L. who was always available on G-chat for my rambling and eager to make a plan to kick some ass
• 4) Brittany, who responded to all my frantic emails from Alabama (Wella Warthog loves Brinny Bear). I thank God that she is on the other side of the nation and is time zones ahead of CA so that I had messages of cheer or encouragement when I woke up.

Because I love pictures, here are some pictures of people who represent blessings & gifts God has given me. Friends make the holiday special.