On Sunday, a woman in church hugged me and said two words to me.
For my whole life, I’ve wanted to be planted. But I have this wanderlust issue. I always have always wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. I’ve never been content in NJ. I’ve never wanted to be here. I felt punished by having to live here, frankly. There are so many beautiful places that I would like to live. Places where people aren’t complete jerks.
I’ve been fighting with God about church. I always have a reason, an excuse, about why I shouldn’t go. I was hurt really deeply by “christians” in the church. I have found a place that is supportive of me no matter what. My pastor is a great guy. He has a shepherd’s heart and a child-like love of God. Heck. I love the Church and want to see the Bride of Christ glorified and magnified through the Church. But individual churches make me break out in hives.
I’ve had a bunch of jobs over the years. I’ve always either loved the job and not so much the company or loved the company or the idea of the company but not the job. In the past, aside from my job at the bank, I’ve always taken a job because it was offered, because it was needed, but not because it was a job/company that I really wanted to work for. For the first time in the last 15 years, I have a job that I love and a company I love that I want to make successful.
Today as I was driving to work, I took in the drive. As I was driving through town to work, I had a startling thought. I can be really happy here. I realized that I felt something that I’ve not felt in I cannot remember how long. I am content.
The last few years have been a t-o-u-g-h season. I’ve been emotionally, relationally, financially, physically a train wreck. I’ve tried my darnedest to pretend that everything was ok. But it’s not been. I thank God for the friends that I’ve made who’ve been the lights in the darkness…people who saw something in me that I couldn’t see myself.
I find myself in a new season. Through the darkness, people have told me repeatedly that one day I would appreciate the hard times. When I was bleeding emotionally, in such pain it took everything inside of me to put a smile on my face, while I was eating my pain away, gaining a bunch of weight, I thought, “Yeah, right. I’ll appreciate this time. Whatever.”
On the other side, I understand. I do appreciate it. If I hadn’t known such deep turmoil, I wouldn’t be able to relish this contentment. I leave you with Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Solomon knew a thing or two about seasons.
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.