So, I tried real hard to quit it all, and leave this place for greener pastures. When the timing proved not quite right, I told myself I'd practice contentment...until October. For three months, I put a ban on scheming my way out of discomfort. I tried just to accept my lot, exercise patience, and play the glad game as often as possible.
In July, a three month rest from constant plan A, B, C-making was just what the doctor ordered. I was able to really enjoy a summer for the first time in years. Fresh peaches, night swimming, and late-night cook-outs. Creek-wading, deep air-breathing, Kinfolk-esque attention to beauty in small details. Birmingham became full of possibility again, as I looked at it through new eyes. Here, I thought. Yes, I can do here for a while longer.
And then, an unexpected grace came out from left field, and made the staying even sweeter. Late night walks and excited-nervous talks, hand-holding, and meal-sharing. This gift—a sheer grace—was a soft landing spot for my wearied heart to rest. Grateful.
The Lord is rebuilding what was broken. He is fortifying what was impeached. He has been at work in me from first breath to gracefully unfold not just my story, but His, one page at a time.
And he's been readying me for something, ensuring my well-being all the while. And yesterday, all praise to Him, I was able to quit my job. In two weeks, I'll walk forward in faith into a future that doesn't promise me success, security, or comfort. But, in trusting the Lord—sovereign over all my days—my heart is light. I look down at my next illuminated step, hang my hat on this chapter, and walk on.
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