The Year of Being Thirty: Life Upside Down (and God Exactly the Same as He's Always Been)

One of the sweetest things to measure from this year:  tons of great together time with  a guy I adore.

Writing is my favorite way to log where I've been. I'm fortified to move forward with confidence when I have concrete evidence of how I felt in past craziness AND how I saw God bring me through it.

On my thirtieth birthday last year, I wrote about trusting God with my future, believing that the things He's chosen to put into my life are part of His "inheritance" for me -- and believing that I will be able to look back and say those very things are "good." Not just bearable, but good. And I stepped into my thirty-first year with expectancy.

I cannot believe all the things that happened to me when I was thirty. The list is overwhelming:

I started grad school, pursuing an exciting Masters in Literacy Education program.
I wrote like a fiend for the first five months, putting 2011 on track to have far more blog posts than any previous year.
I watched a friendship with an amazing guy blossom into...something more.
I summoned every giddy bone in my body when he called to ask me out -- and quickly said yes.
I flew over the handlebars of my moped (on our second date, just thirteen days later), spent three days in the hospital, and came home diagnosed with a mild-to-moderate brain injury.
I spent months with my curtains drawn, sleeping half the day, avoiding noisy or bright places, living a tiny sliver of the frantic schedule I'd kept up in my former life.
I learned to watch TV. In large amounts.

I cried when I was told I couldn't return to work this year because of the injury.
I left my grad program behind for the same reason, but with less emotional fanfare.

I enjoyed countless hours with Dave (the aforementioned amazing guy, who proved to be even more amazing by sticking with me through everything and contributing way more than his share to our relationship!).
I logged hundreds of hours at therapy appointments and doctor visits.
I gained enormous amounts of knowledge about medical bills and health insurance.
I experienced far greater generosity than I could ever have anticipated.
I said goodbye to my roommate of six years, and I moved in with my brother and his family.

All of these things, in less than twelve months.

I'm six months into year thirty-one, and from this near position, I can already look back and see that what God has included is good. Not often easy, but good. And I am grateful.

Detours: Under Construction, Part Two

“You might let me cry/ You might let me sing, 

You might let me feel a fraction of Your suffering/ but You won’t let me down.” 

(Never Let Me Down by Andy Gullahorn) 

Image: www.signsshipped.com

While there are multiple word pictures I’m holding on to in this season of life (perhaps I’ll blog another time about beetles or dahlias), the one that resonates the most is the one of construction and detours, leftover from an unpublished blog post written last summer.

Then, many of my thoughts were in the theoretical range. Now, some of those ideas are defining my life, and I have a few more thoughts to add.

The analogy in that blog post broke down because I knew the outcome of the driveway construction in five days. Five days of upheaval, and then poof! Beauty. But life isn’t like that.

Life construction happens more like the massive highway overpass project that’s been underway near my home for the past two years. You don’t build bridges and re-route roads and revamp intersections (all while keeping pace with traffic) in a quick-and-easy fashion. It takes time.

In fact, the first leg of the project was simply bringing massive piles of dirt to settle where the bridge would eventually be erected. They sat there all winter. Big, ugly piles of dirt.

Once the actual construction began, the hallmark was its detours.  Three major roads meet at that place, and none of them was ever closed down for more than a few hours at a time (usually in the dead of night). Those of us who commuted daily on these roads had no alternatives in this area but to keep driving on them. Or, to be precise, to keep driving on the detours which bore their names.

Some early changes remained constant, while other sections were completely new every few weeks. I learned that zoning out while driving home from work was not an option. If I wasn’t paying attention, it was easy to miss my exit or end up heading the wrong direction.

Nearly four months ago, I was in an accident which left me with a mild-to-moderate traumatic brain injury (TBI).  It could have been so much worse, and I’m incredibly grateful for all that is intact in my body and mind, as well as for the myriad ways I have seen the love and faithfulness of God as a result of the accident.

However, the recovery has been one of detour upon detour.

In the hospital, I was told that I’d likely be back to normal in a month. (I now know that 80-85% of people with this type of head injury recover fully within a month, so to be told such wasn’t out of line.)

Nearly a month later, and nowhere near my former “normal,” I learned that it could be more like three months before I could drive again or return to work. Starting the school year with my students was out of the question. I cried for hours after that appointment.

Just recently (fourteen weeks after the accident) I had a similar appointment with that doctor. This time she delivered the news that I cannot return to work at all this school year. My progress has not been consistent enough to consider adding the load of teaching (or any work right now).

Detours, and more detours. Just when I think I know where things are headed, the road veers a different direction, and I squint into the future, looking for signs of any sort. Any reassurance I’m still on the right road.

There have been days lately when I've been consumed by wondering about this detour. How long will it last? Will it ever end? Will I be able to cope with the transition to the next season? If this detour has been difficult, how will I ever face more challenging things?

Two thoughts are lighting the way before me, giving me enough confidence to keep moving even though this detour is both uncomfortable and unrecognizable.

First, I trust the One who can see the whole project, both the work inside my heart and the work in His world. He has demonstrated His trustworthiness to me time and again, and the past sixteen weeks have been no different, except in one measure: the acuity of my need. Keen awareness of my need for God –not as an insurance policy over my agenda at large, but instead as the air I breathe and the strength I must have to do whatever He’s placed before me- is a gift, however it is packaged.

Second, when I picture the final result of that overpass project by my house, I smile. The finished product is far superior to the previous, dangerous intersection. Whoever planned and executed that project did a good job. How much more can I trust my Heavenly Father to do a good job in me?

 “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:31-32)

On Turning Thirty...

(I took your advice and wrote it, Sharon!)

Tomorrow morning when I wake up, I will be thirty years old. I've never been thirty before. Having seen it from afar, I've viewed it as a rite of passage, an unmistakable move into genuine adulthood. And I have been a tad intimidated.

Intimidated, perhaps, because I had a list of defining factors I thought would be a part of my life by the time I reached this milestone. House, husband, kids, graduate degree, dog. (The world in general must agree on this list, as I am frequently asked when I will find a man or get a masters or buy a house -- or, in the case of my students, adopt a baby.)

And so, when friends have asked how I feel about reaching this important age, I've been tempted to run through the mental list of non-acquisitions. No house. No husband. No kids. No grad degree. No dog, even. Conclusion: I must be a loser. (I'm so tempted to throw in a great line from The Kid right here, but only my brother Mark, who doesn't read my blog, would really appreciate it...)

Add in statistics about singleness past thirty and ticking biological clocks and retirement funds, and the whiny voice of self-pity is joined by the raspy, quivering voice of fear in singing a dirge about my future.

But if you ask me how I feel about turning thirty, I am not going to sing you that song, because God has given me a different, better one to sing. Every time I've started to think about this in the past month, He has drowned out those voices in my head with these verses, among the most precious to me in the whole Bible:

"Lord, You are my portion and my cup of blessing.

You hold my future.

The boundary lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;

Behold, I have a beautiful inheritance." (Psalm 16:5-6)

I am confident that when I reach the end of my life, I will be able to look back on what my perfect, sovereign Creator decided belonged in it and say, "What You chose to include is beautiful and good. Behold, I have a beautiful inheritance."

One reason for my confidence: there is not an area of my life where I cannot see evidence of God's goodness to me. He has met me SO abundantly. Over the past thirty years, He has given me a multitude of precious friendships and has sustained them through various seasons. He has always heard my heart's cry for genuine fellowship with like-minded people. He's provided adventure in my daily life and around the world. He's given me opportunities I never anticipated and ones I secretly longed for. He has given me places to belong and places to grow.

When I have asked for something, He has either given it or redirected my heart's desire. Some of these things He brought before I expected them, and some He brought after long seasons of seeking Him and trusting His provision. But never once have I lacked, even in a season of waiting.

My only question: how can I possibly look on my future with dread when I can see His rich faithfulness woven through my past?

So how do I feel about turning thirty?

...hopeful.

...expectant.

...even...joyous. I have seen God's trustworthiness displayed in these thirty years; may I recognize it and display it far more in the coming years, however few or many they shall be!

"I have set the LORD always before me;

because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken." (Ps. 16:8)

Holy, Happy Words

"And then he said a bunch of holy, happy words!"

This was Grayson's summary of what Zechariah did "when he could finally talk again" (following the birth of John). We review the Christmas story every December in my class -so I know the story inside and out- but this little catchphrase snagged my mind. He was right; Zechariah's words bubble over with joy, yet they are immensely sacred.

This is the beginning of his prophecy:
"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
For He has visited us and accomplished redemption for His people,
And has raised up a horn of salvation for us
In the house of David His servant--" (vv. 68-69)

And here are his prophetic words over his newborn son:
"And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare His ways;
To give to His people the knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Sunrise from on high will visit us,
To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace." (vv.76-79)

A few thought-bursts of my own on these holy, happy words:

• I love how God works on the macro and the micro levels at the same time. He's bringing about salvation for the world, yet He knew the deepest heart-cries of Zechariah and Elizabeth for a child. I've seen it in my life on a smaller scale, the way that God brings things together which answer many different prayers in one situation.

• It seems to me that Zechariah's desire for a Messiah may perhaps have exceeded his desire for a son (this prophecy doesn't have a "me" in it -- Zechariah was rejoicing in the Big Picture and the fact that God was going to use his son in the middle of it!). While carrying an unsatisfied hope in his heart for all those years, he wasn't poisoned or overtaken by it.

• Often, holy, happy words such as these are preceded by disappointment, struggle, pain, and lots and lots and lots of waiting. God works waiting into a lot of things. Apparently, He doesn't see it in the same negative light I usually do.

• My favorite phrase is "with which the Sunrise from on high will visit us." I am awed by the sunrise as I drive toward it every morning. Every day, the world transforms as it turns toward the sun. Gradually, the light makes everything visible. Some days, it's dramatic. Other days, clouds make the exact moment imperceptible, but the light comes nonetheless.

Mmmm...

I so desire that the Sunrise from on high will illuminate a dark struggle I'm witnessing in a nearby marriage.

I'm asking Him to shine on a student's mother who's facing cancer.

I want the warming light of His tender mercy to comfort my dear friend who's facing her first Christmas without her husband or mother.

I am crying out to Him to shine the light of His mercy over past hurts, that they may see His hand both then and now. I'm begging Him to surround them with the light of His presence now, that they may rest fully in it. And I'm asking Him to fortify and energize them with hope in Him for tomorrow.

I'm praying that they may have the strength to continue trusting God while waiting for His sunrise, that they may someday (soon, I hope!) burst forth with some holy, happy words of their own.

"I waited patiently for the LORD;
And He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay,
And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God;
Many will see and fear
And will trust in the LORD." (Psalm 40:1-3)

Anticipation and Rest

I'm sitting surrounded by open luggage and last-minute tasks, checking off lists and then adding more to the same lists. I leave today for five weeks in Kenya, Africa, and I'm trying to make sure I'm ready...

There's something about traveling which stirs excitement within me. The realization of how much is out of my control requires that I trust God more (or go out of my mind with anxiety!). As the Psalmist said, "As for me, the nearness of God is my good. I have made the LORD God my refuge, that I may declare all His works." (Ps. 73:28) I become more grateful all the time for circumstances which remind me that I cannot navigate my life on my own, because they make me lean upon my very big God.

Not that I'm naturally comfortable there. I like to know what's happening next so that I can feel ready for it (or so that I can fret about not being ready for it!). Like my students do all day long, I'm always asking Him "What are we going to do next?" The routine is oddly similar to when I pass out materials, and before the directions can leave my lips, the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth fills the room: "Miss Djerf, I don't know what to do!" I find myself panicking and whining much the same...

Lately, like a good teacher, He's been handing words I've spoken back to me: "Listen, whose job is it to have the plan? Don't you think I have one? Do you think I know how to give you directions about this? Do I ever give you a project and just stand there? NO! Now, if you'll just chill out, I'll tell you what to do, one step at a time." (He usually says them more kindly than they sounded coming from me the first time.) Just chill out.

One verse I'd like to get into my heart these days is Hebrews 4:9-10: "There remains, therefore, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God's rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from His. Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will fall by following their example of disobedience." As I travel across the ocean, expecting to serve Christ there, I want to place my confidence in His plan and His work, not my own. This verse alludes the the people of Israel who weren't allowed to enter the promised land because they refused to believe that God would fight their battles for them. They chose to rely upon themselves (and subsequently wallow in their own inabilities), and God disqualified them from the promise. He wanted them to participate in His big-ness, to be in the midst of the battle and see His mighty hand fight for them. He wanted them to move forward and rest in who He is.

I know He wants that rest for me on this trip, a rest that's different from sleep. It's participating wholeheartedly in whatever He has for me to do, but doing it "with the strength that God supplies." (1 Peter 4) I can relax because the work is not mine, it's His. So is the plan. And so am I. Therefore, I can rest, whether or not I know what's next...