Learning to wait

First of all, I’m so appreciative of those who read my last blog post. I’m humbled when people actually read all my random thoughts and updates. Secondly, I have survived on the subsequent comments, well wishes, emails, texts, and visits with me all the while teary-eyed as you told your own story and mentioned threads of mine. All of our stories are interwoven. You see me, you hear me, you care. It’s truly a gift.

Today is the 4^th of July. Freedom is the theme of the day. For me, it’s my “word” this year. I’ve been experiencing freedom in ways that I could not imagine – most of it has come through vulnerability. The hugest freedom has been loosening the chains of “control” in my life. I’ve been moving, slowly (sloth-pace), from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s seat. Okay, maybe I’m “riding the hump” (sorry, had to add a country phrase) or straddling between seats, but I’m moving.

I woke up this morning with just an overwhelming peace that I never thought I would fully embrace or grasp—the peace of submission, of waiting, of letting go. Some of you know bits & pieces of what is not said publicly in the blog and you can affirm the fact that God speaks tangibly to me. For me, there’s no way I could not believe because I’ve had way too many “Only God” moments, ones that leave both the believers and the non-believers stumped or with “chill bumps.” It leaves some shaking heads and shrugging, “How does this happen to you?” The beauty of it is….that I know. I know I’m loved. I know I’m created for a purpose. I have grace. I have provision.

For the past few years, I feel like God & I have had a very special roller-coaster-ride, patience-teaching, submission-inducing relationship. I’ve been able to yell back, rest, cry, throw things, high five, laugh, question—all the while knowing I’m loved beyond measure, taken care of, and will continue to be taken care of. I’m infuriated by the Christian-ease shown when people show real human emotions. I am enraged with hearing “give it to God,” “if you’re worrying, you’re not praying,” etc.  I cognitively get all those things but I appreciate my relationship which allows me to be human, the way I was created. I’m allowed to have emotions—be scared terrified, sad, angry. I’m allowed to process these AND know that I’ll be okay. I know I have a resting place that I’ll nestle in after the occasional internal emotional fight.

How did I get here? Me- the control freak, detail-obsessed, must-know-timeline beforehand to begin, do-it-quick-and-check-it-off-a-list person? Simple: Repeated tangible moments that are undeniably “Only God.”

For some reason, I woke up with one of my earliest happenings on my mind. There are many “miracle” stories in my childhood. One that played out as I woke was being in a car accident at ~21. I was driving home via “back roads” from Alabama to Mississippi after a hair appointment. For months earlier, I had been thinking that I should learn the names of roads in case of emergency (at this time, we had recently gotten all roads renamed/named for the 911 system). I came around a curve in the road to see a car in my lane. It was a woman driving, and her child was standing in the seat next to her (don’t even get me started…). There was no way I could hit them in any way. My first thought was the child. I swerved and missed. No biggie—until I went to get back on the road. My car hit loose gravel and I began to swerve from one side of the road to the other, quickly losing control of the car. At that moment, I felt the spin. I could see flashes of trees, houses, familiar landmarks. I felt the car slide up a slight embankment. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. For some reason, logic kicked in. I held my legs close to the seat (flashbacks of broken legs from locked legs extended to the pedals from in auto safety classes in school), took my feet off the pedals, gripped the stirring wheel, and held on. I felt the car go up and then start to flip. One of my worst fears was slowly (although I’m sure quickly) being lived. Then, it was realized. The car flipped and rested, upside down. My first thoughts were to get out—I’d be so upset if I was okay and then the car caught on fire or something. I had no idea what the condition of the car was like on the outside. I unbuckled my seat belt and fell face down on my opened bible that had fallen out of the glove box (1 regret in life? not looking at the passage!). I couldn’t orient myself to get the passenger door open – who’s used to opening the door from upside down? I called 911. I didn’t freak out until she said “Where are you?” and I couldn’t answer. What were the names of those roads??!?! I couldn’t read the small sign from so far away. I tried to explain where I was in terms of landmarks and other major roads. Reality hit when she said “Don’t worry ma’am, we are looking for you.” I knew she had no idea where I was. This is a low traffic area in this time of day as well so I knew that no one was coming quickly. Suddenly, two guys that looked like convicts (understatement) drove up. I panicked. But, reluctantly I engaged them. I asked them to simply open my door so I could crawl out. They did. I was thinking “now what?” so I remained on the phone with the 911 operator (God bless these people). I joked and told them if they had anything to hide then they may want to get on down the road as the highway patrol was on the way. I kid you not, they bolted like a flash of lightning. By this time, I was able to read the cross streets and emergency personnel were on the way. The volunteer fireman from down the street showed up. I asked him to please cancel any ambulance and have only the highway patrol arrive. He did but I heard him on the phone—“I think she’s okay. She looks okay. She wants to cancel the ambulance so her dad doesn’t get billed for an unnecessary ride. She’s making jokes.” Because of my “kookiness” from being so freaking glad I was “okay” they assumed I had a head injury. The volunteer fireman said he didn’t want to come to the scene after the call because that “curve gets everyone” and “most people wrap themselves around the tree.” You see, I missed the trees. My car slid right through, hitting nothing. I had no scratches. No glass broke. I didn’t hit my head during the spinning and flipping. I was the first person in an accident per his knowledge that wasn’t seriously injured. Purpose? I knew I had one. This moment was loud for me. Provision? Although it wasn’t my first taste of it, it was my most flavorful.

Most of this “learning” however began with my visa journey. I had only so much control. I could control submitting paperwork and some details. My attention to detail and organization could shine in the execution of paperwork. The rest—approvals, dates, requests for additional info (the important stuff)—was out of my control. We worked by a timeline that either caused feelings of elation or desperation. None of it was “approximate.” All in all, most of our steps were completed or approved in 50% of the time expected which is what I prayed for. The ones that weren’t, however, were very delayed. Actually, I prayed for a quick trip through this dreaded timeline but I also wanted our story to be a reflection of God’s presence in our relationship and to highlight things that only He could do.

I’ll share one of those moments that was one of the most profound for us. Luba’s police clearance was delayed. It was our final piece of paper before a last submission to the embassy to get scheduled for an interview. Calls were made. In turn, false promises were made. More calls were made. More promises were made. No police clearance came. Emotions were beyond definable at that moment—we could do nothing, nothing but pray. Our friends & families prayed.  Luba was working with the police academy and set out for an assignment that was changed at the very last minute. Instead, he was to take a couple people to the airport. Of all of the people that could have landed in the back seat of the car, she was the ONE we needed. She could assist us with our missing paperwork. She was a high government official and in charge of this very thing. She heard our story. She exchanged personal information with Luba. By the beginning of the next week, it was in the mail to us and we were on our way. (Long story short: she saved us from waiting for paperwork that was never coming without some bribery & corruption involved and months of delay). At that moment, I began to really set up camp and rest in a verse that had been shared with me by my friend April Diaz much earlier:

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.

Habakkuk 2:3

When my medical journey began, I started out again as who I’ve always been. I had to mentally run through a timeline with steps to “get this tumor out.” Again, everything was already lined up and revealed little by little. It was proven yet again that His ways are better than mine. Had I gone by my course of action, which was logically and medically sound in nature, I’d have the tumor out now but would definitely have some permanent neurological effects. The surgeons were not trained and appropriate for my case. I would have entrusted my voice to sub-par physicians and surgeons all the way around. I had trusted them, and they had been wrong – all of them. I was reminded of Habakkuk 2:3 each time a delay occurred—insurance mishaps, that yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing something wasn’t right, the anesthesiologist on the case that urged me to get a 2^nd opinion even though surgery was scheduled, the ENT who is a specialist and told me to wait, the fight with insurance. It even occurred as the #1 surgeon (out of state) for this rare tumor contact ME to be of assistance after he read a Facebook post. Seriously? He contacted ME after I had researched him online, wished for his opinion, and gave up the thought of contacting him when I didn’t find an email address online. The very next morning, I woke up to a message from him which included his email address and some confirmation of questions (& second guesses trying to push in) that had been racing through my mind. A few months ago, I was grasping for any date for surgery. I rushed. Today when you ask me when surgery is, you get a nonchalant shrug and “Dunno.” I know it’s going to be scheduled on the right day. The right surgeons are going to be there. I’ll have my posse praying through every minute of the surgery. I will be okay.

A few weekends ago, I went to my all time favorite women’s conference in LA. I go every year. It sustains me until the following year. This year, the theme was “Be Brave.” “Brave” was a word I had been thinking through for weeks so I knew it was going to be good. And it was. One speaker, who is a Grammy-winning recording artist, recounted his experience of having vocal fold damage during intubation during surgery. It was refreshing to see him back up and singing, albeit different than before the surgery, and still living his purpose. He was there for all of us, but I knew he was specifically there for me.

One thought kept resounding in my soul all weekend:

I’ve given you a voice—what makes you think I’d take your gift?

You’ll speak louder after; your territory will be enlarged.

It is done.

I believe it. It’s mine. I claim it. I hold on to it. I wait for it. The right time will come and it will not be delayed.

Love,

Danielle