Lights Will Guide You Home

Fall has always been a favorite.  The excitement quickly faded when unexpected flashbacks accompanied the unboxing of last winter’s clothes, and with each cooler day, I started digging my heels into the ground to slow down the deja vus invading at random times.  Every breezy, golden memory now had the word “FRAUD” painted in red.

Truth broke walls I couldn’t scale and I will never turn away from it nor forget its power to rescue.

Hope: the day light broke through the trees and warmth poured in.

Without something to work toward, we wither.  On a small scale, I’ll do a mental scan of my upcoming week.  If it’s a hectic one or has something I’m not looking forward to, I’ll reach further and look for a break in the clouds to set my sights on, and let that ray of light keep me focused.  (Sometimes a ray of light just looks like a good lunch.)

We need people and things that are rays of hope in our lives.  Humans are hardwired to need a vision, a hope of something more, something bigger than ourselves to invest in and be part of. Without it, as Scripture says, we die out.  During my commute I’ve been blasting the song “Heroes” by Amanda Cook from her album “The Voyage,” and every time she sings “you taught my feet to dance upon disappointment,” I burst with more emotions than what should probably be considered safe for driving.

For there is hope for a tree, when it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and its shoots will not fail.  Though its roots grow old in the ground and its stump dies in the dry soil, at the scent of water it will flourish and put forth sprigs like a plant. -Job 14:7-9

One thing at the forefront of my thoughts right now is the fear I know a lot of women around me are facing, and the choices they are making in the midst of it.  Choosing peace that blatantly opposes the storm around them.  It makes no sense to outside observers; it can even appear counterintuitive to fight fear with stillness.  As believers, we have the power of Christ within us and when we are rooted, standing firm in our identity, it is a force that can withstand anything.

Even fears of those tightly-held dreams of having a family or significant other not happening or being shelved.  Or experiencing fulfillment.  Seeing our potential and discovering what we’re truly capable of.  The pain of wondering and uncertainty is real and often buried deep.  Women are excellent at busying themselves going about duties and often sacrificing those little girl dreams in the process.

A woman was praying for me shortly after I called off my wedding and she kept repeating, “Hope is NOT deferred.”

Never.  In fact, hope was restored because confirmation poured in that I was not crazy!  (I remember a breakup years ago where I showed up to his house ready to set us both free, and when he immediately called it, I threw him off by breathing a huge sigh of relief and saying “oh thank God” through happy tears.  I must have looked nuts, laughing and assuring him I’d never been better while he tilted his head and looked at me, asking if I was ok.  I laughed and cried all the way home, using the experience to learn how to trust my gut and we both moved on to live our best lives.)

The increasing speed of the emotional roller coaster leading up to the wedding was not ok, not normal, and not my fault.  I had been duped and there is something better.

It’s times like these that I remind myself it’s impossible to miss my own boat.

A good Father does not take away to leave a permanent void.  He sees farther than we do.  He is light in the darkness.  When that light feels like a pinpoint, we have to lean in closer and He is faithful to meet us there.  Some of my darkest days have been marked by a unique sense of His presence I don’t feel other times.  It is out of those days that our roots are deepened in their search for water.  Our convictions are woven tighter and our testimonies grow more powerful.

As my faithful poet Chris Martin says, “Lights will guide you home.”