Clearing A Way

The wipers scrape hopefully across the windshield, dramatically flailing while I push the button, hard. Uh oh. I try it again, just to be sure. Again they spring to action, whipping wildly back and forth. Nada. Out of washer fluid. The dirty sludge sprayed on my windshield remains. "Can you even see what you're doing?!" My 12 year old daughter beside me squints. "Barely," I respond, teeth gritted.

******

It's been 6 long, scary, dark and desperate months since I last dared tap out words in this space. In that amount of time, I've watched my world change in such a way that I hardly recognize it, or myself. Each time I thought I'd reached rock bottom, bloodied fingers scraping seemingly immovable obstacles, more of life seemed to crumble.

I look back on these pages and remember the days of baking bread and blocking wool and warm afternoons in the sunshine pushing my babies on the swings. I remember the hard a bit softer, I'm sure, and the bright much shinier, but that is the nature of hindsight. Now I'm tossed into the world of searching for daycare, looking for Mama-friendly work, navigating the world of "real school" that I am woefully ignorant in and spending hours a week driving carpool. All of it is outside of my experience. All of it feels like some colossal mistake. So much is continuing to unfold in our lives, changing and challenging each one of us in ways we feel unprepared for.

Still, at the very center, a spark. A knowledge that leads to a choice. And a choice that leads to radical action.

This year, I know God is calling me to deeper gratitude, all encompassing faith, more complete reliance. This year, I know that beauty might be harder to spot but God is still in this, with me, each step of the way. Not my way, no, not at all. Not according to my plans or dreams or hopes, really. But His way - can I trust it's really best?

He is still at work, even here, even with me, even in this family. There isn't a moment, a challenge, a fear He doesn't hold; own. It's dark and it's cold and I'm afraid I've lost my way and my vision is blurred and I'm so far off course I could never possibly find my way back, but maybe that's the goal here? Never back. Always forward. Allowing Him to lead me through places I have never been, choosing to trust that He's got it, all of it. Setting aside my pride and my preconceived notions of what my life should look like, and letting Him lead instead.

It's really all I have left.

*****

Dinah leans over the hood of the car. "I think it goes there," she points. Together we fill it up, blowing our frigid fingers at intervals before slamming the hood shut and hopping in the car. Inside, she nods and again I press. Nothing. Again? No. Heart sinking with the thought that something might really be wrong, I lean my forehead on the icy cold steering wheel. "Maybe it just needs a few tries? Do it again," she says.

Once more, then. A sparkling spray and we're clear. And just like that, I can see where to go, what to do, and how to get there.

****

Some gratitude for my new life:

~Wonderful schools where my children are happy, learning and safe.

~A community of families who help them get there.

~Moments each day with each one of my precious people

~A family committed to supporting and helping when and where they can

~A flexible work situation

~Weekly worship, which feeds my soul

~A warm home, a working vehicle, all needs met

~Grace, forgiveness, redemption.


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