Open Palms: Learning to Hold On Loosely

I can't even tell you how long it's been since I've written in my blog. Months? Years? Probably years. But daily I have messages fly in and through my mind that I think, "I've got to share this with people!" but I never do because I'm usually driving a kid or chasing a kid or yelling at a kid or nagging a kid to pick up something off the floor. You get the picture. 

Yet, I'm compelled to get off my rump and finally put this down because, Lord help me, I've been through a lot lately. Not kidding. Full disclosure, we haven't been through as much as some, and I'm not claiming to understand other people's real pain or suffering ... like cancer or the loss of a child. So, please understand I'm living in reality here when I tell you these recent life challenges are probably child's play compared to some people's daily mountains.

But for those struggling with climbing over the steep hill called trust in times of change, this one's for you.

Let's start six months ago. No, let's back up further. Eight months ago I was living a blissfully contented life. My husband and I worked in the same town for the first time in our careers, he at a construction firm and I at a church as communications director. Let me tell you I never considered working at a church because of all the horror stories I had heard from friends who had done it. Yet, there I was and happy as I could be. Almost two-and-a-half years had passed since I had accepted the position, and I was still riding high.

Then, suddenly things began to change. I won't go into all the nitty gritty of the situation, but let's just say it was ugly. I mean blood-letting, rent your garments ugly. 

And I left feeling scarred and beaten up over something that I'm still unclear about - and at a church nonetheless. I was faced with a decision: stay on my quivering legs and hope things changed or resign and face a future of financial uncertainty. 

Now, I've been a writer nearly all my life. I have a marketing firm I had operated for almost 10 years prior to accepting the job at the church. But all of that had been placed on the back burner while I pursued what I considered to be "God's work." Now, that very environment had left me with wounds I'd never saw coming.

So, I began to pray and seek counsel - from friends and professionals. For three months after the bloodletting, I sought my path. I wanted to stay. Desperately. But I knew God was leading me elsewhere.

Eventually, I made the dreaded choice to resign. But when you resign from a church to which you belong, you aren't just leaving a job. You're leaving a family, a home, friends, your children's friends.

For months afterward, my oldest son, who had been a leader in the youth ministry, left me with no doubts as to his disappointment in me. He blamed me for the upheaval in his life, for the ripping away of his friends and his spiritual home.

And I felt the guilt acutely. I cried myself to sleep, praying that everything would be made clear. Why had this happened? All I could do was trust. Not easy for this gal, believe me! 

Years ago, when my husband had been laid off from a previous job, God confronted me with a truth I'd never faced before: I held on tightly to things. With closed fist, I would hold on to the things I loved so no one could rip them from me. It was only after I realized that everything I have is God's that I learned to open my hands, and hold on loosely to what I held dear.

I returned to this lesson again after the church incident, as I like to call it. I returned to it again as we searched for a new church home. And again as I rebuilt my business and sought His plan for us.

The sands were shifting under our feet, and we had to find a way to keep upright.

Today, less than a year after my church hurt, I'm grateful for a thriving business. We've found a new church home that our kids are excited about. I even believe my oldest has come to understand what transpired and no longer blames me.  Even my husband is forging new paths.

It was as if by opening our hands to His plans, we were opening our arms to a bigger picture. 

Next week he starts a new job with better pay and more opportunity. This was another matter of prayer for us. Because, once again, we had to let some things go to accept God's direction.

With this new change, Dan will be driving into Austin every day, giving up the convenience of being less than a mile from our home. We'll have to learn once again how to work with each other's schedules and how to navigate Austin traffic (not for the faith of heart, I tell you).

But God is in it, and we have learned the hard way that we can't doubt His provision. Regardless of the journey, His plan is always the right one. And that sometimes, when we open our palms, he just might replace the things we thought were dear with something much more precious.