I’m a bit behind on our Christmas ADVENTure. The project manager and perfectionist in me screams to rush…to check off all 25 boxes…but the years have taught me to wait on God’s promptings. And Advent is, after all, a season of waiting.
Waiting is something I’m well acquainted with. It is a place in which God sits me time and time again. You would think I would master it at this point in my life. But I am terrible at it…really terrible…tremendously terrible…which is why God is waiting – in His own way – for me to learn to do it well.
This holiday season is marred with the ashes of a divorce. God is here in these ashes…
Watching the tears.
Holding my hand.
Understanding my pain.
Teaching me lessons that are best learned in the dark.
Showing me kindnesses that glitter and shine like diamonds among the ruins.
Yesterday was one of the kindnesses, but I’m a bit nervous – and frankly, a little nauseous – to share it with you for fear of what you might think. But I feel that tug – that makes me want to cuss – of sharing something hard and private and personal. I know this is my calling on this earth: to be transparent and honest no matter the cost.
This week has been a time of missing my ex-husband, Steve. I do my best praying through writing, but yesterday I muttered a prayer deep in my heart, “I just need someone to pray for me and Steve.”
I had a counseling appointment yesterday morning. I was not really looking forward to drudging up all the feelings. But there I sat drudging it all up and saying for the first time out loud to a person, “I believe God will restore my marriage.”
I felt so silly saying it.
I feel naked writing it.
So pathetic believing it.
And so desperate for it to be true.
But I said it aloud, and I broke down from the weight and fear that it might not be so.
My counselor’s reaction was kind and encouraging though I don’t remember his exact words. We went well over our time. He didn’t have an appointment afterwards.
At the end of the session he did something he hasn’t done during our time together. He said, “Let me pray for you.”
And the memory of that prayer I spoke in my heart rushed in.
I listened – overwhelmed by this small and sacred act – and I heard his words, “And Lord, I pray for Steve...”
I have no idea what words were said after those six. I was fighting to hold back the sobs. The only thing I could think of in that moment was that God heard the slightest whisper in my heart, “I just need someone to pray for me and Steve.”
What a gift.
What a wonder.
What a kindness.
To be heard and remembered by Him.
And while I feel silly for saying it,
And naked for writing it.
Pathetic for believing it,
Desperate for it to be true,
And fearful it might not be,
I do believe God will restore my marriage.
And so I wait.
I wait in this season of Advent knowing that God is pleased with the small mustard seeds of our faith.
I wait like Abraham waited for his son.
I wait like Noah waited for the waters to recede after the storm.
I wait like Hannah waited – and Elizabeth waited long after – for a prayer to be heard and remembered.
I wait like the whole of Israel waited for the fullness of time to bring their King that would change the world.
I wait knowing God works in the stillness of an seemingly ordinary, everyday night.
And I wait like God waits for people to respond to the message that infant King brought.
I wait for life and love and hearts to be changed.
I wait in the darkness for the light.
I wait in the stillness and in the ordinary.
And I wait in hope.