The long story of a breakdown and the breaths that follow

I need a place and space to tell my stories so they don't get lost. So forgive me while I indulge... or perhaps that is exactly what you are longing for (as opposed to math riddles and random song lists... which, by the way, I am totally loving my shuffle-fied play list more than I thought it would. It keeps things fresh. I almost anticipate the surprise of the next song and it distracts me!)

So the penning of my last post marked the arrival of some pretty significant junk. I was genuinely tearful and discouraged when I realized that our leaving is eminent, and that set the stage for my melt down later that day. By the time Billy got home I was a puddle of discouragement and full-on tears. Billy set the fireplace ablaze and encouraged me to sit in front of it and read all my journal entries from when we were in Africa last year.I put the kids to bed.I sat in the rocking chair that I had nursed all my babies in (that we are most likely getting rid of although we haven't talked specifics) and let the warmth of the fire soak in to my bones while my own words of too long ago soaked in to my soul. I read about my children's prayers... and about how sick I was... and about how much at home we were, so much that we almost forgot what a big deal it had been to get there. I read about people like Pastor Jacob and Pastor Sipho and Naphtalie and Dekaladie and Arnie and Chantal and Hein and Anita and Jeanetta. I still cried because my heart was so torn up.

My sweet Jen said " Sometimes, if you find yourself talking to someone about a “good cry” you will likely be talking about something and thinking, well, I guess I’m done with that now, but this is different, we might just keep crying. "

Shane Claiborne said "I know there are people out there who say, "My life was such a mess. I was drinking, partying, sleeping around ... and then I met Jesus and my whole life came together." God bless those people. But me, I had it together. I used to be cool. And then I met Jesus and he wrecked my life. The more I read the gospel, the more it messed me up, turning everything I believed in, valued, and hoped for upside-down. I am still recovering from my conversion."

I'm certainly not Shane Claiborne, but I have felt like I"ve been living in that tension... and it is a bit of a trainwreck for someone as emotionally guided as me (I like to call it an artist's heart).

This is when God begins to show up in crazy ways.
Every
Single
Day.

From the day when a "have you talked about dinner plans with Julie?" turned out to be an amazingly fancy-pants dining experience fundraiser for us that is in the plans... to the new song Aaron shared with us that was pulled right out of my heart (I'll share those words with you another day)... to the friend that was sitting on her couch sobbing at the same time I was sitting on my couch sobbing because it had just hit us both that I really am leaving. For real. And neither of us wanted to call the other and mess them up, not knowing that we were both already in the exact same place in that exact same afternoon moment.

There was the time that this girl I don't really know at church did a beautiful reading that fully touched my soul. I felt like I needed to tell her so, but didn't. The very next day I see her again, so decide I am going to stop and talk... but she is engaged in a conversation and as I'm waiting for my moment I begin to loose heart. What am I going to say "hi, my name is trace and I really like the way you .. uh... read." So I left. Monday I get an email in my box from a family I had taken pictures of saying "We gave a gift of a portrait session in your next shoot to our good friend... would you email her??" Yup. It was the girl. Totally her. So I did talk to her, a few times, and it was beautiful.

There was also the time where I was dropping off a van full of clean-outs to the thrift store. Now, I've been to this thrift store a ton of times and it is always non-social semi-homeless men manning the donation bay, but as the metal door lifted this day I was greeted by two grandpa men singing out "Anybody home??" "Just us chickens!! Bock!!" For real. So we are emptying the van, bag after bag, and the grandpa chicken named Jim makes small talk "So... you movin'?" and I answer "well, yeah." "Where ya' going?" "well, we are kind of going to Africa." And he begins telling stories and asking questions and being generally enjoyable. We haul the last bag into the garage and he says "Can we just pray for you and your family?" and before I answer "of course" a car drives up and a woman gets out. She walks over, plants a big kiss on Jim's lips (so I'm assuming it is his wife) and when he explains who I am and that we are going to pray, she wraps her arm around me and the little circle of us begin to pray. Standing out in the fine sleet, he sings poetry to God - praying for us, our journey, our friends and family. He prays specifically against discouragement that tangles us up and drags us down. Against discouragement that keeps us from truth. He prays and prays and the kissing lady is lifting his prayers deeper and deeper with her "Yes Lord. Oh, do you know Lord. Make it so Lord" chorus. Then he says Amen, receives one more kiss before the woman turns and gets back in her car and drives away.Like, literally, she just showed up for the prayer and then she was gone again. And I'm standing in the freezing rain, outside the garage of a thrift store with two grandpa chickens who have just given me the most amazing gift. And I kind of stood there for a minute, wondering if it had really just happened or if I was just so messed up I was starting to hallucinate.

Blessings show up despite our tears and sometimes unbelief and just plain selfishness.Maybe it's not in spite of, but because of them - God sidles up next to us just to let us know that He is, indeed, still here.

And through all the moments when I see things happen or people step up in ways that could only be coordinated by God because nothing else makes sense, I have to know that I can hope in today. Today I know God is here. I can't bring myself to have hope in three months from now...it's still sometimes too big... but because I know God is here today... Because I have hope for today... I can have hope that in three months, He is still going to be here. So I guess in that way, my hope for today spills into tomorrow and that tomorrow leaks into the next three months. And I know that I'm going to have a good long cry... that might last a while... but that I'm not going to be alone, and I'm going to be okay. In fact, honestly, I already am.