Jeremiah 29:11
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
I KNOW the plans for our burned out Summerfield home. I see the workers. I count the weeks and minutes. Currently, I have no proof of what will be realized in those plans or the timing, but I trust the plan makers even though I’m not sure what the timing or tangible outcome of their plans for my future will be. I often wonder if I should take deep breaths around surviving this house fire thus far or based on the foundation of construction that had been set. Eerily, this experience with the house fire runs parallel to the hard work of my marriage, the processing and living through the recovery of childhood trauma, and the tricky navigation of parenting through my story.
He knew my hopes and future before the hopes were even safe for me to acknowledge. Women and sisters, touching hope and breathing through the beauty for ashes places in our lives is sometimes hard because we wonder how we escaped some hell or trauma or life that others didn’t or maybe we believe we didn’t deserve to. But we can wonder and grieve about those places and people AND be full on roof top singing that we broke a cycle and started living into hope. It is both:and
Sometimes I let the reality of my horrors keep me from hopes.
Other times I give myself permission to have the best of both worlds without apology. We’ve worked hard. We literally started with nothing and worked and prayed our way out of poverty and public assistance and fear.
Today I’m taking a deep breath and absorbing the realities of setbacks and steps forward that have come together with personal hard work, help from friends and tax payers, and hopeful painful personal work. Today, I’m breathing in a tiny bit of what it means to stand on our own two feet with the foundation of relationships holding us.
Today I’m both sunscreen and no shingles on my future.
Today I am both secure and no front door or floors.
Both:And
