journal

Two weeks ago on February 10, I wrote and published these words at 3pm in Stockholm:

Yes, today is Tuesday February 10 again, but I mark it in a different way. Today is the day I move forward, the day I turn my eyes to the new thing. Can you see how it springs up? There is a way that opens up in the wilderness, the renewing stream gushes in the dessert. My heart is ready, my pen is waiting. It’s time to write a new story. It’s time to sing a new song.

Two hours later we received some unexpected news. It seems like the new story I wrote about here was put in motion immediately. This is vague because I cannot write about the details (or the big picture) at the moment, but there were certainties that are now not certain, and there are many question marks. This post is written in process, I am not at the finish line, I have no bow with which to wrap this up neatly. We don’t even know what we are hoping for, but we are hoping. We are dreaming.

We talked that evening, we prayed, we allowed our hearts to open up.

Maybe you’re reading this as a man or a woman, older or younger, or perhaps you’re a teenager, and you are entering a transition time, you do not know what will happen tomorrow or the day after that. Consider this a dispatch from the field.

Write it down. Wait it out. 

Husband and I have been scribbling in our journals more, going back over our notes from the past weeks and years, looking for clues. How have we been led? What has God been speaking to us? What do we love? In which direction has he been turning our hearts?

And we are writing words down. The promises we hold in our hands. The visions he casts in our hearts. The longings of our souls. Writing down the process gives it life, value and importance. These are the stones we put down, we write down in the middle of life happening, before the beautiful package, when it is still a messy muddle, so we can look back and say: Yes, God is faithful. 

If I read over the archives of this blog, a lot of it would be chaotic and painful, blog posts written in the middle of life with a newborn, in between fights and making up, in between moving and settling down. There are unhappy, truthful words here, but there is a lot of holding-on-to-God here.

Whatever stage of life you are in, write down the promises, write down the visions, write down the dreams, and yes, write down the hurt and the anger and the pain as well. 

And wait it out. 

Waiting is an act of war in a culture that demands everything right now. The world tells us that we can have whatever we want, whenever we want it, that we deserve to have everything immediately, that we are so awesome we are entitled to our desires.

No.

In the middle of the mess when everything inside of you craves a decision and a form of stability, wait it out. I reach across the table to myself and say these words, Devi, wait it out. A decision seems like stability, knowing what comes next, it seems like security, but this is the lie of the world, it is the deception of our culture. The more you see, the more you know. The more you know, the more stable you are. The more you know, the more you can plan. The more you can plan, your future can be secured.

These are lies, and we feed it with our wasted time, money, energy and life.

Security, stability, it comes from knowing who you are and to whom you belong.

I know who I am – I am loved and treasured by the God of the universe who has done everything for me and will continue to do everything for me. I know that nothing in my life is wasted, and that every evil thing that happens to me, God will turn it for good. I know this after the years of exhaustion and sadness and loss and fighting and confusion and anger. I know this because he found me in the wilderness, took my hand and led me out with chords of kindness. One step at a time.

I know to whom I belong. I am a child of God, I belong to him, and he is fierce in his love for me, he is devoted to protecting me and leading me. I belong to my husband and to my children, we are in this together, we are walking together, our lives are knitted together by a divine hand who put us together for a reason. It is not an accident, we are not lucky, this is not chance. Our lives together are part of the perfect plan set in motion before we were ever born. 

I know who I am, I know to whom I belong – these are two truths I can stand on, this is solid rock that cannot be shaken, these are truths on which I build my life because it can never be taken from me.  

I don’t know what our current puzzle is going to look like, you don’t know what your puzzle is going to look like. But hold on, my friend. Write it down. Wait it out.

One day when we see it in full, it will be beautiful, and this beauty is only available to the longing heart who waited, who believed it would be beautiful, who saw with eyes of the heart before it made sense. He is good. He is faithful. It is well with my soul. 

Now it’s your turn: What are you waiting for? What have you been writing down (if you feel comfortable sharing)? Can you look back and see the benefits of waiting? 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and Meredith Bernard today.