I don’t have to know where I’m going anymore. I’m fine with riding passenger. It’s taken a while to get rid of the bad theology of “The American Dream” (or most of it, I hope). I’m not the “master of my fate” or the “captain of my soul” as stated in Invictus. I’m content, joyful even, to know Jesus is leading me. Even with so many reasons to be discontented, I’ve found God has given me contentment. I’m less “in control” than I have ever been. I honestly don’t even know what this summer or next year will look like, what I’ll be doing, or if things will resolve in so many respects. Yet I know this is where God has led me. So how can I have contentment without any “game plan”?

It’s the time of year that many people look back on the year that is drawing to a close and highlight all the good or say “good riddance” and wish for a better year to come. I’ve thought often about what this year means to me in retrospect. It was certainly an “ebenezer” year, and I wish I had an actual stone to put somewhere in remembrance. It was a year I saw a true miracle: God spared my husband’s life when he had, at best, a 2% chance of survival. It was incredible, undeniable and I will never be the same or stop being grateful that we can all still be together as a family. But we can’t tie up our story with a nice bow. We can’t say “God saved Jonathan and this is why.” I can’t negate the dark valley I walked through afterwards or the fact that Jonathan still lives with a medical condition that gives him pain and hinders normal activity. He still can’t run around in the yard with our kids and he’s not back to 100%. The discouragement and limitations that continual nagging pain causes is hard for us both, especially because it looks like there may not be any resolution on the horizon apart from another miracle of God. 

The outdoors have always called to me. Many times I feel I simply need to go outside and feel some sunshine on my face. During our normal homeschool days, we try to take a daily walk around our neighborhood. But after my husband almost lost his life in February, I’ve been rethinking, well, everything. I took an imaginary look forward into our future. In five years I will be 40 years old, our youngest (the twins) will be 7 or 8 and our oldest will be 14. I can’t imagine them being so big and independent since they insist on “Mommy!” for everything at present. That is a big change in such a short amount of time. It reminded me that I have a lot of groundwork to lay in these brief years. There are more vital things than schoolwork, though I do still want a high bar set for academics. Going through something traumatic will teach you that you can’t survive without a good framework and a good vision for your life. The unnecessary things seem to crumble away. I see now the need to change a lot of rhythms in my life, and being outside for my sake and my kids was something we all needed more than our current schedule allowed. Our curriculums have always encouraged a field trip day or something of the like on Fridays, and we did that plenty, but now we go outside for different reasons.

What if life-giving words were spoken to us over and over and over? Words have the power to shape us, yet we often don’t give enough attention to what our own words are doing. James gives us the image of the tongue as a fire, yet Proverbs speaks of good and timely words as “apples of gold in a setting of silver.” We can let our words be something that destroys beyond all repair (only rebuilding) or something beautiful, valuable, and enriching.