Grow

I haven't written in a long, long time.  

At the risk of saying the same old thing, the same old way, I just put the proverbial pen away.  Waiting.  Waiting for an overflow of words and wisdom.  Something that would relieve me and encourage you.

But I've waited a long time and nothing's come.  

A few weeks ago I moved out of my house.  Packed up at Trout Court and moved to the other side of town.  My last day at the office was March 25th.  And after 6 years of diligent work for them, my boss didn't show up on my last day.  So much for goodbyes.  

I've started a new job.  I think God's mission was to humble me, to get me moving, to make me laugh.  At the end of the day now, I am exhausted and my feet hurt and I stink.  But the last time I had a job like this, some beautiful things happened.  And I can't help but think about a prophecy a friend spoke over me.  About how through my ministry I would provide something sweet for people.  

I have four weeks left of classes.  This has not been a great semester.  I feel like I've just barely been scraping by - holding my breath and ducking my head and just going for it.  There is only one class where I feel like I learned something new.  But it is through this set of classes that I have found myself spending time with a group of kids from elementary schools around Lexington.  

I did all the paper work a few months back to become a substitute teacher / para educator here in Lexington.  I started getting calls from the Subfinder and was terrified to even answer them.  My uncle warned me that if I didn't start accepting some jobs, that they'd quit calling me.  So the next morning when they didn't call me, I got nervous.  I was packing up the last of my things at Trout Court that evening, having just finished praying nonchalantly and telling Jesus that I was hurting for money.  I was broke and I told Jesus so.  I didn't ask Him to fix it.  I just told Him.  Like I might tell you.  Not necessarily expecting circumstances to change.

I got in the car and the phone rang.  I answered.  Subfinder.  I decided to see just how the process would work.  So I put in my ID, followed procedure.  They wanted a para for kindergarten on Friday.  A day I had off of work.  At an elementary school right beside my yogurt shop.

Funny.  I told Jesus what I needed.

He knew I needed something else entirely.

I really think God's sneaky plan, His favorite M.O. is to use one thing to achieve something else entirely.

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So here I am.  

This seems to be my favorite phrase these days.  Here I am.  There doesn't seem to be much more to say than that.  There are days when I look around and have to remind myself, "things will not always be this way".  

I will not always be single.

I will not always be in school.

I will not always be so pressed for time.

I will always be poor.  But maybe not always this poor.

So here I am.

With what feels like a brand new life.

And with this brand new life, I need brand new words.  

I am craving the day when I have time to go to the gym.  And the first Farmers Market on a Saturday morning.  

But I am right in the middle of God's will.  I can feel it.  He's emptying me.  Stretching me.  Giving me opportunities to grow.  He's making me brand new.

This is not a breaking season.  This is a growing one.  He's doing some spring cleaning in my heart, making room for new things.  Letting me trying them on for size.

He washed some dirty windows in my heart when a group of small prophets came barreling through the door of the church last week and the little ones threw their arms around my waist.  

And on Friday, when I walked into an elementary school to step in as a para for a kindergarten class, the Lord broke the lock on an old door.

Something I thought I could never do.  Something I thought I wasn't good enough to do.  Something I was too scared to try.  

Papa God bent low and gave my a shoulder a loving shove.  The door opened, exposing rooms and light I had never seen before.  "See?  I told you, we can do this."

Who knows what's next.  Really, I have no clue.  

I know that Haiti is in my future.

I know that my poor heart is craving space.  Room to breathe.  I want to spread my arms out and not touch a wall with either hand.  

I'll come back and tell you more about this later.  I have some shame and pride and desire to process.  Words haven't come yet to help explain to you my sudden change of plans in the last few weeks.   


Growth is happening.


On the other side of a season of breaking and a season of healing and a season of abiding.


And now spring is here.