Dawn and I ate at Chili's with our little boys and we waited on our food- which was delicious.
This waiting is not terribly difficult to do.
We are already living in the anticipation of owning or eating and we can be content in the short periods of wait.
But there are bigger waits.
My momma, waiting for the right home to move into.
My friend, waiting for her fiance to pick a wedding date with her.
One of my vlogging friends, awaiting the birth of her firstborn.
Sometimes our wait is short-lived and of little-to-no consequence. We don't often give it a second thought. But there are seasons where the wait is longer than we had hoped, longer than we think we can endure.
This is where we go with today's post: the long and trying seasons of wait.
When Your Heart Breaks
My heart broke today. Long after the morning date with Dawn and our Littles, my three sons and I drove around town looking at Christmas lights when they should have been preparing for bed. It was lovely, the lights, the Christmas music, the excitement. After each neighborhood ended, they would ask from the backseats if we had to go home yet, or if we could ride around some more. And with each precious question so gently coming from their mouths, I would circle another community and we would "oh" and "awe" some more.
It is December 18th, and I know too well that all this fun and excitement will come to an abrupt end.
People actually take down their Christmas decor the day after Christmas!
And where I want it to last forever and mourn over the approaching end, others will have their trees, bare and sitting on the curb come evening of the 26th.
My heart breaks for that, but, much more, so much more, it breaks for the woman I saw tonight.
She was walking down the sidewalk as I was stopped at a red light. I noticed that she was carrying a bag which looked strangely smooth. As I drove by her I looked more intently, and my assumption was confirmed. She was likely carrying her only clothing in the bag and she had on socks but no shoes; homeless.
I pulled over and waited up the street about 20 feet from her. My sons were still in the car. The music was still playing. It as dark but we were on a public street with lots of homes.
In my head I had this dialogue wherein I asked myself if I loved this stranger more than the boots I was wearing? I tried to figure out a way to go home and get for her a less-loved pair of shoes. I dreaded the thought of what I would do -or not do- next.
As I awaited her walking beside our car, I felt such conviction. Conviction because I want so badly for my sons to see faith in action. I want so badly to not think twice about the price tag they cost or how much I like them for cosmetic reasons, and instead be fully immersed in the need of a living person and how this could be an open door from the Lord.
She never walked by. I looked out my rear view mirror, wondering if she had stopped. Maybe the sight of my vehicle stopping was frightening to her. I looked across the street and back down the sidewalk she was last seen walking up. I decided to go around the block, not sure of what I would do if I saw her, only wanting to confirm that she had left first, not I.
As I made my way back to the corner I first saw her at, and down the road I last saw her, I felt a physical release. She was not there. I could keep my boots.
I had many thoughts. Yes, the boots. But there was also the hope that she had walked into her home, and with that, I would be wrong and she would not be homeless after all.
There was the thought of wondering if God had swept her away, or if she was an angel and I was on mission.
So did I succeed on this possible mission... or not?
This brings me back to the waiting we are speaking of today.
I shared this with Big Strong Man after we put the boys to bed. My heart ached and I felt all.the.feelings. about how this woman must feel and how I could have done more.
I made lots of assumptions and tried to walk the line of guilt and grace, leaning on grace because guilt is not from God and I know this.
B.S.M. told me that it was alright to feel, but it was not alright to have had acted outside of prayer.
You pray, he said, and you let it go.
You drive away.
You leave (that weight) right there.
And I may have looked at him crossed-eyed because I couldn't understand how that could be enough. How that kept her warm, or tangibly lead my boys into seeing me live out my faith.
But he continued, reminding me that our sons are our first priority, and their safety must never come second. That this is not a season for me to be pulling over our car WITHOUT HIM and IN THE DARK to encounter a STRANGER when OUR SONS ARE PRESENT and without fully KNOWING THE CIRCUMSTANCES.
And he is wholly correct.
And it affords me some comfort.
Yesterday I picked up a new book to read. It's so pretty and the title gives me all the warm fuzzies:
Dance Stand Run
In it, Jess Connolly begins with a story of how the Lord brought to her memory and her conviction (much different from guilt) how she excitedly told three women in her church about the show she was currently binge-watching, Pretty Little Liars.
The conviction came upon her when she cried out to God asking Him why He didn't move in their church on Easter morning and He allowed her to see that her heart was not pursuing Him in His holiness. Instead of desiring Him that Easter morning she was desiring this show and talking to her friends about it.
There is grace. So. Much. Grace. but I am, in this moment, actively pursuing Holiness.
Tonight felt like that.
This is a season of waiting: on the outskirts. in prayer. with patience and utter dependency on God.
This is a season of holiness as well. Because the two can merge.
At least for me, today, they can.
Advent Day 18: The Sleigh
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