Monday, June 8, 2015

#Blessed

Many months ago, I read this blog called "#Blessed". It was GOOD. Really good. At the time, I was experiencing a lot of stability in my life. Everything seemed "just right" and I took time each day to be grateful for a season of rest, knowing that the kind of equilibrium I was experiencing was fleeting.

But what I noticed was there was not a lot of motivation on my part to pray, meditate, reflect, be still. When everything is going well, there just isn't too much to do except receive, share, and be grateful.

And in a lot of ways, nothing major has changed.

But a few weeks ago, we got home from work to find a note in our mailbox from our landlord. "Due to unexpected circumstances, we will be unable to renew your lease when it ends this fall..."

Caleb, painting in the first place we lived after we got married.
And just like that, I flashed back to the above blog I read:

"[B]lessed does not mean pleasedBlessed does not mean happy. Blessed does not mean fulfilled. It doesn't even mean fed or clothed or housed or healthy...
What it really means is that you are not alone, for God is with you."

I began a process of understanding what I knew the instant I read the words in that note: that coming home to find that in a few months, it won't be your home is, in fact, #blessed. Being reminded of the fine lines between "at home" and "homeless" is a gift. Remembering that "being in control" is an illusion is grace.

Welcome. The world is upside down here.

Ringing in the new year (upside-down, obviously) in the second place we've lived since getting married. 
Many people have said to me, "This could turn out to be a good thing, maybe you will move someplace really amazing!" My dad, who is quite wise, shared with me that this might be one of those things that you don't understand until afterwards, maybe even many years afterwards. That's advice he's given me before, which is some of the best advice I've ever had.

But I actually think that the blessing arrived the first week we learned we'd have to move. When I was sleeplessly tossing and turning and not taking deep breaths. And then in the reorientation that came when I remembered, not just with my mind, but in my body, how to pray.

When moving, it's important to pack flowers. 
*I would like to acknowledge that unexpectedly having to move within the same neighborhood is not what I would consider to be one of the most difficult things in life. But it's still no fun.