The time change brings darker mornings and later evenings. We are changing too. I have learned one thing this year and it has spread through me like a good drop of honey. I am learning to wait. God is showing me that when I am willing to still, to quiet, to be uncertain, He will move.
We took our date — finally. We are so silly that way. Two families offer to care for our boys and still we prolong the opportunity to get away, allowing life to crowd in and demands to push us further apart again. But then you say, “We need to take them up on that” so we go out on the simplest of dates. I sit across from you and we reconnect. You share the current struggle of your heart and God gently nudges me to wait. I used to jump in, thinking myself encouraging and somehow believing that my words would make all the difference in showing you what you ought to do — as if I knew. This season is different. I am learning more fully to let you have your space, to think about things from your viewpoint. I sit still and I wonder what you must be feeling and what the “ought” I think should happen would mean to you.
After supper, you surprise me. “Let’s just go home without the boys and have a cup of tea together.” Tea? Is this what happens when I step back and leave room for God to move? You, my double-espresso, no-condiments husband, want tea? We sit over tea, you enjoying this like I never dreamed you would and me so surprised by God’s always “new” ways. He says, “Behold I am doing something new,” and every time I am so taken by His unpredictable and specific ways of moving in our hearts and lives.
We are like this old married couple (well, we truly are getting there, aren’t we?) and we sit over tea and you bring up the concern again. I didn’t expect it to come up twice in one night. Again, I sit, allowing you space to process and think through your heart and life in this area. Now I am doubly blessed and surprised as you come to the awareness that my “ought” could be an option.
Miracles happen when I back off and leave room for God to move. I could miss these little miracles, but as I still, I see them in you. When I trust enough to be still He moves in and moves mountains. When I recline into His presence and become willing to risk, He provides.
Lessons come at a price. Nothing is gained without cost. I have had to work and pray and endure some pain to learn this lesson:
It won’t always look the way I want it to look or go the way I think it ought but it will be the best it can be when I step back, still my anxious heart and am willing to wait on the Lord.