Written Sept. 2019
publishing delayed
Well, I had a plan to get lots of things done today, but instead I have spent the better half of the day doing basically none of them and crying my eyes out. That’s not for anyone’s pity, it’s just reality and it’s okay. Week eight living in Southern California is coming to a close and it has been the hardest of them all.
I felt really settled and at peace about being in San Diego right when I moved. I was invigorated every morning by a bright new reality that I’ve wanted and anticipated for a long time. And those first few weeks were still riddled with anticipation of what I really came here for – school. Now that I’m three weeks into classes and already learning SO much, now that I’m looking for a part-time job to help support myself through this season, it’s all feeling much more permanent. I knew this feeling would come, but I didn’t know what it would actually be like when it did.
The dust has begun to settle, leaving me with a much clearer vision of where my feet are – grounded in a new location where (Lord willing) I will be for at least two years. Away from family, friends, familiarity, comfort, and routines that have been steady and maintained for a long time prior to now. Now I face the re-creation of all of that, alone. It’s exhilarating to be independent and to have the unique opportunity to pursue things in life as God calls me to them and opens all of the necessary doors to do so, but this week has been r o u g h. I guess the eight week mark is when the freight train hit and I realized that this is really happening; that I am sad about so many things, and also excited and nervous and anxious about so many other things – struggling to find a balance between the two without feeling guilty one way or the other.
I’m grieving both what I left behind, and what I thought my life ahead would look like at this point. I’m living in the middle of the two – reality, which is looking much different than how I visualized it would. And even though it’s so good, it’s hard. And I am sad and feeling kind of pitiful and guilt-ridden because I shouldn’t feel this way – I have a truly infinite amount of greater things to be thankful for – and yet, I am completely consumed by sorrow and fear and uncertainty that is robbing me of the joy I’m trying so hard to hold onto. I feel like a newborn giraffe trying to walk by itself on a questionably frozen lake. Like, where is mom…? Or anyone else for that matter?
And then comes the ever-present reminder that my God is greater still. He is greater than the grief and that which causes it, and He grieves with me. He’s greater than the things that scare me, the things I struggle with daily, the things I think too much about, and those I don’t think about enough. He’s greater than all the greatest things, too. And I think that’s been the biggest thing for me to remember. Before I moved I kept telling myself, “no matter how good this is, He’s better; He’s the One who’ll be there with you, who goes before you.” He’s the giver of every good thing, and also the One who sovereignly allows every thing that I consider “less than” good. He’s greater than the sins He’s already forgiven, both that I’ve committed and have yet to commit. He’s greater than the things about myself I don’t like and even those I do. He’s greater than all the things I regret, am ashamed of, and even the things I still greatly desire. He. Is. Greater. He will always be greater because He is the ultimate Author, Perfector, Establisher, Teacher, and Shepherd.
Grief, in its multifaceted technicolored forms, is okay. Good, even.
& He is better.