I've been in survival season the last few months. You've probably been able to tell. Hadn't planned on it, hadn't expected it, haven't been sure what to do with it. I haven't done anything creative or stretching...haven't done any projects or much reaching out...haven't done a good job of keeping in touch, haven't known what to write about. I have been schooling, cleaning, cooking, churching, tired. Repeating.
Haiti's extra burdens feel extra heavy. Not being able to go this November kind of nailed the coffin...it's the holidays and we are homesick...We miss the food of home, the feel of home, the people of Home. 'Tis the season and we're missing (and concerned for) a lot of family.
I've been hanging. That's kind of all. And I've been unsure how to move out of that place.
Tuesday night I almost skipped small group, for the first time ever. Just back from our long trip, I was tired and feeling bedraggled, so I planned to send the kiddos and breadsticks with Matt and to stay home and sit in the dark and maybe even go to bed crazy-Stacey early.
But at last moment, he was caught at work and going to meet us there...and skipping small group would crush the kids' week. I rallied, tired of rallying, tired of feeling like I didn't even want to go be with precious people to talk about Jesus.
Julie's living room, with the most eclectic group of 20-30 people every Tuesday, is such a sacred space. Kids from 3-16 running through the rooms and slamming doors. Friends from 17-70 from all pasts and presents, all convictions and freedoms, all healing and hurting, all eat together and study the word and break out in men and women and really pray, tears and knees.
But Tuesday I wasn't looking for sacred. I just wanted to disappear into the chair.
But instead, I found Christmas.
Matt talked about Advent, about hope, this week. Talked about the darkness of the cross that Jesus lit up, the lights on our trees, taking the symbol of death and painting it over with HOPE. He talked about dark places within us each...asking where we are praying for, searching for His LIGHT to come this Christmas. Tears stung in my eyes because the dark spot, lately, it's just been ME. I've been in the middle of the dark spot. He asked if anyone could think of a time that hope just HIT them, overwhelmed them, out of nowhere.
Tears sprang to my eyes again as I instantly thought of that moment I've shared with you before...deep in despair over losing my mother, standing knee-deep in a river in a little village in Haiti, beating out clothes with a bank full of chattering mothers, when HOPE hit me full force with the sun on my back and I KNEW, no doubt, out of no where, for the first time, that He WASN'T finished. He still had a plan. There was still hope.
I sat with that, hungry for it now.
Juice spoke up without even pulling his resting head from the couch. He rarely pipes in, so when he does, I interrupt my thoughts and listen.
He spoke simply of a time when he was alone in caring for his ailing mom...working his music, caring for his mom. That was his whole life, he wasn't making it, he had no one else, he was alone and had not enough and was not enough and she needed more and so did he.
"One day, outta nowhere, my uncle called. Said they worked it out, and every day a nurse was gonna come for an hour and help with my mom."
He paused for a minute, and thumped his chest.
"I realized how hopeless I had been, in that moment, and that phone call changed everything. I was suddenly FULL of hope, because HELP....Help was all I needed, and Help was coming."
The room was silent. And then...
Christmas! Matt breathed.
That's Christmas. You were alone. So much was needed. You were not enough. HOPE was given, Christmas! Christmas: Help is coming.
It wasn't quite like that day in the river, 19, so long ago.
Didn't hit me like the sun burned into my hair.
But Juice's voice, "Help is coming."...
Matt's passion, "This is CHRISTMAS"...
My realization, "There is LIGHT for this DARK and it's His GIFT...not my hard work."
Something changed Tuesday night.
I did not wake up Wednesday rearing to go and with a fresh lease on life. But I did wake up with hope.
And as the last of our dear missionary friends in Haiti, the Elders, have been told by their mission to evacuate Haiti this Sunday, they are suddenly heading here.
We cannot WAIT to see them. I can't wait for the kids, after a full year and a half, to be reunited. I can't wait to listen. I can't wait to sit. I can't wait to love on them.
But I also couldn't help last night to feel a bit like Juice. A lot is needed, five extra hurting people, ten days, lots of meals, lots of love, lots of kiddos. A lot is needed to do this well...and helping them land from a nightmare WELL...we WILL do this well, we must. A lot is needed. And lately I just feel so very little in my hands. So...UNcapable.
I cried out to the Lord of light in the shower this morning after tossing and turning all night.
"Lord, I don't have what is needed, no where close. I'm tired, I'm struggling, I'm barely doing each day, I'm coming up short. Where can I find the wellspring I need for these days? Lord, you have to HELP me. Please, I can't do it. I need Your help!"
And I promise you, conditioner in, immediately and unmistakably to my mind came a bizarre texting group the moms in our neighborhood have...where we ask about vet references and picnic details and share little joys and surgery updates, etc.
I haven't seen some of these women in weeks, months. Haven't talked to most of them. Surely no one on there owes me ANYTHING, and surely our dear friends coming from Haiti Monday have nothing to do with them! They are busy busy ladies with full calendars. I quickly pointed all this out to the Lord.
But man alive, were they pressed heavy on my heart. There. Is. My. HELP.
I got out of the shower, pulled out my phone, added two other other nearby numbers, and did what I never do...asked for the help that He is providing.
I texted them of our dear friends. I told them of my short hand. I told them only to help if they wanted, only if they could, only if it was convenient. I asked them to maybe help, just one meal...told them how much it would bless me...and sent it. And God just had already done it.
Minutes later, literal minutes, three neighbors had three dinners covered. Thirty minutes later on a Thursday morning, every single woman I texted had one meal covered...and what about coats for the boys?...coloring books and crayons?...warm boy clothes in all their sizes?...and a monkey birthday cake for Sam.
You think I was crying Tuesday night?
I was so humbled, so blessed, so grateful, so surprised by hope that I couldn't do anything but sit there with tears down my face and tell the girls that God had sent me HELP, the second I asked for it, more than I ever would have asked for...and had given me HOPE.
Now, instead of spending hours in the kitchen, I will spend hours on these dear lives. We will take those boys to the zoo instead of the grocery store, I will get everyone home in time for dinner, instead of in time to cook it. All that is needed, has suddenly grown POSSIBLE, because God showed me 7 women and they showed me Christmas.
The light is coming in. I've been needing it so badly. I couldn't even get it for myself, haven't had much of it to offer.
Where are your dark spots, family?
Christmas: Help. Is. Coming.
Ask Him for it...and watch this sacred season how He works.
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