Backtracking a little, the last six months have had me taking literal steps backward from all of my relationships and social involvements, but I finally feel like I’m jumping back, starting fresh, and it feels pretty great.
I tend to over-involve and over-commit myself and wind up hustling alongside my story instead of actually living it. February has felt different.
Studying Peter has still taken up a lot of my time. He was overzealous and a big fat sinner, but his passion for Christ is incredible. He tended to leap first and pray later, which is basically my life in a nutshell. I am weak-kneed over adventures and advocating for who and what matters most to me, but sometimes I jump too quickly. I’m learning to slow down and take deep breaths.. still.
February also brought long nights and poured out prayers over this idea of Uganda and God’s timing. From where I sit, God has made it abundantly clear that now is not the time. It breaks my heart in ways I can’t even begin to explain, but my heart is still planted there and I know I’ll be back one day. It’s just going to look a little differently than I originally thought. Scripture says something about how a man plans his path, but God directs his steps — well, true here. God’s timing, not mine. Even so, I will hopefully get to visit in the fall for a couple of weeks with some dear friends. I will still get to hug these people tight that mean so desperately much to me and walk those dirt roads again. And maybe I’ll pack a little extra in case I just need to stay.
This month has been filled with long trail runs up and down hills, tight hugs, quiet moments, deep conversations, and the kind of laughter that makes your abs hurt for days. It’s been full of joy moments and that joylight that somehow finds itself seeping out of the holes in us. Our brokenness is good for something.
So, from where I sit on this little extra Leap we get this year, I am still overwhelmed with gratitude for this season and for the hard and holy ones surrounding it. I am still learning that God leaves not one breath to waste, but uses that life breath to bring life and growth. Sometimes I feel like I’m watching a tree grow, but that tree is me. Slow and steady. How patient He is to join us in the waiting & the hard growing. How patient He is to see us, see our weaknesses though we cannot see them ourselves, and expiate for them – to balance them out, to offset them, to redeem them. His works are wonderful, and this I know well.