My Sand Castles

Much like an infant swaddled in its mothers arms, I'm comfortably slouched on my in-laws' faux suede couch sandwiched between pillows piled over with a giant, cotton-fleece blanket. Pretty kitties and butterflies--I didn't realize that was the linen design until just now. "Hmm," I think to myself, as I take a sip from my too-hot cup of jasmine green tea. "Who knew?"

I'm enjoying the stillness of my Saturday morning. Ken and his dad just left on a work errand so I have the house all to myself. As I reflect on the beauty of the fall colors outside, unfolding in bursts, as the morning sun rises above the tree tops, one of my favorite Switchfoot songs starts to play on the radio. The chorus softly beckons me in:

I wish I had what I needed
To be on my own
'Cause I feel so defeated
And I'm feeling alone

And it all seems so helpless
And I have no plans
I'm a plane in the sunset
With nowhere to land

And all I see
It could never make me happy
And all my sand castles
Spend their time collapsing

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.

It's a song about a boy learning to grow up. And it's a painful process. I can understand how the singer must feel. It's been a few years now since he wrote this song and I wonder if things have changed--does he understand life better now? Or perhaps he's still searching for something--maybe elusive--that this side of Heaven will not fully be revealed to him.

In the past week, I've noticed that like the words of this song, many of my 'sand castles' are collapsing. I'm in a season of tremendous transition, filled with moments of intense grief, and conversely joy, along with the growing knowledge that while life events and circumstances are uncertain, there is a God who is not, and He is with me. Always.

Last Sunday night, Ken and I got word that one of his grandmas had passed away. It was bittersweet, as Grandma Alice was a big part of our decision to move to Alaska. Months back, God gave me a vision to pursue relationships with family by living closer and it was an honor to share in Grandma's last few days here. In retrospect, I didn't realize our time together would be so short.

I guess that summarizes much of how I'm feeling in our current stage of life. Ken and I are faced with many uncertainties. Without a steady income and no job prospects on the horizon, we are at the beginning stages of considering what that means for us. Realistically, can we stay in Alaska? Likewise, did God bring us to this place just for a season? If so, when is that season over--how will we know? As we review our budget based entirely on savings, we know at some point our money will run out. Our relative financial security that we've enjoyed by living frugally the past few years is not enough to postpone the inevitable. And so, in a spirit of faith, we are pursuing job opportunities together and I am placing my business endeavors on hold, while we seek God for what's next.

In many ways, I see dreams of mine being placed on hold, seemingly collapsing. The hope of starting a family, of living near family, and my desire to feel secure and have a place of our own. Right now, I have to release those things to God. I have to believe that in faith what He gives us is better than what I can take for myself. My prayers in the past few days have become much simpler. Lord, help me to know that you're with us. No matter what.

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.