Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Surrender Like a Child
It's funny to me, the way our life shifted a few years ago, and how we now feel completely at home, yet still thoroughly, utterly changed.
I don't know, my mind wants to believe that as soon as we've really come "home", life feels normal.
It does. But it doesn't.
Maybe that's the thing about surrender, that once you start, once you really commit, you know too much to believe it's over.
Surrender is never really done.
And the gratitude I feel every day that God spoke clearly and gave us the faith to respond is endless. I don't ever want to forget it wasn't always this way. I don't want to fall back into my old ways of believing my goal in life is to live a life of comfort, stability, security, and ease.
This wonky life keeps proving it means business. Almost everything changed, and we are no exception.
I'm equal parts intrigued and really nervous to see what happens next.
But I know it'll be good, even if we have to cock our heads sharply to the side to see it that way.
I found this school project of Ruby's early this school year.
It wrecked me, in good ways and bad ones. It leveled my emotions.
I wrote all about Letting Go, then the next year, I wrote all about Going.
Sometimes I wrote about what it meant for kids (here and here.)
There were days I was gripped in fear and regret.
But we did this. We walked where we were sent, believing our kids were called along with us, and we'd all be okay.
Ruby is our least-squeaky wheel, and we take note of that. Cory and I area always having mini meetings where we probe the depths of that smart little brain and that good, good heart. She used to wear her heart on her sleeve, but not as much anymore.
She's an observer. A quiet processor.
All of that to say, when I read her words and stared at her illustrations, in unlocked so much in me. For all of our attempts to know what each of them was feeling, it didn't fully come out until she was sitting at her little school, teaching the whole world about what it means to surrender, how badly it can hurt.
It's hard to be new. It's even harder when you're shy.
It hurts when most of your classmates speak Spanish to each other and you're the one feeling left out. (It hurts even more when you envy their long, straight hair SO MUCH. < We've made big strides on this one.)
But oh, the incomparable goodness we find when we do it anyway.
I should have just let Ruby write all of my series for me, because she nailed it.
She is my total hero.
So, so, so, so, so, so much.
I don't want to ever sell my kids short. Their mission is just as important as mine. God has big plans for their lives.
They can do hard things, too.