Living in Limbo

I had to stay home last weekend while my family went to a conference about homeschooling and family discipleship. I wanted to go, but alas, a major, 160 question, nerve-wracking exit nursing examination was scheduled smack in the middle of it, so I couldn't go. They came home on Sunday, beaming. Inspired. Renewed. Excited. And with bag-fulls of new books and audio lectures.

They came home filled with hope to see that there are still people left in the world who love the LORD their God with all of their hearts, souls, and minds, and teach their children to love His law as well. It was good that they went.

I, however, have been in a bit of a rut. Perhaps "stalemate" would be a better word. Not afraid, not discouraged, not frustrated--I can't pinpoint it. Worn out? Burned out? Wishing the future would hurry up and pan out so I could see how things will settle? Needing more sleep? Or, all of the above.

I want to plant a garden. But, should I bother if I won't be here to tend it? The two sheep need to be sheared. Where will I store the wool if this isn't the year I can learn to spin? I have too many horses. Which ones should I sell before I move in a mere ten weeks? Who will want them anyway? When will I find time to trim the goats' hooves? And, the "check engine" light came on in my car and it started rattling. And, we have to squeeze in a post-graduation barbecue somewhere in the 24 hours before two of our guys head to Alaska for a commercial fishing season. So much to do. Plans are a-whirling. Everything's jumbled up.

In the midst of the hum, I hear, "Be still." And know that I am God.

Yes, yes. I will. I have forgotten to be still. I have forgotten to cultivate contented joy with the flurry of each day, learning to live in this limbo land of not-quite-jelled plans. They will become clear in time, in His time, when it is right to reveal them to me. It is hard to be still when pulled in a thousand directions, hard to dim the buzzing world out and think about Him. Talk to Him. Ponder what He says. Tune for His pull on the heart.

And be still.

Standing in the Sun

Today was one of those quintessentially spring-ish days. Every year I fall in love with spring more and more, and it is a bit of a sorrow to me that the last five years--including this one--have found me mired in school work and unable to run outside, fling open my arms to the sun, smell the damp dirt and kiss my little goats' furry faces at every chance. But, in a way, the obligatory leash of The Nursing Program (yes, capitalized) has made me behold with a fresh wonder the glory of this time of year, particularly today, as I strain against the cord of annotated bibliography assignments. I lean out my second story window, take out the screen, and close my eyes as the bamboo wind chimes sing in the garden and the shaggy orchard grass glows in the last slanting rays of the sun. And I think, in this life, this quick, spinning, brief life, what more could there be than to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God? (Micah 6:8)

I woke up this morning from a deep, good, sweet sleep, and I awoke with the startling realization that my life is magnificently blessed. Who am I to be the receiver of a life so charmed? My parents are still married, and actually love each other (29 years and counting!). My one sister (of whom I am jealously protective) is six years into one of the most blessed marriages I've had the privilege of watching. My four younger brothers (whom I love with dreadful fierceness) are rising up, growing into the kinds of men who cast off the shabby farce of weak-minded manhood, instead asking hard questions and seeking true answers--a search that is changing them from boys to warriors before my eyes. My niece (2 years old) and nephew (4 weeks old) thrive and grow in a pure, earnest home with a mama and a papa who fear God and love his commandments.

And then there is me.

Somewhere in the middle of this bustling mini-universe that is our family, there is a 22 year old woman standing in the light of the Son, and it blinds me sometimes, when I turn my face into His glory. I'm walking, as we all are walking, and I see the junction just ahead. It's fast approaching, and when I get there, this road ends where a thousand others begin, and I'll have to pick one or stand forever on the sidewalk, watching the traffic rush by. But, it's so hard to choose. In two months I'll be done with nursing school. The pursuit that ate up the end of my teen years and launched me solidly into my twenties, forever out of childhood and into adulthood, will be over, and I'll have to move on--maybe literally.

You see, in my hometown, which is rather small and out-of-the-way, there aren't many (if any) jobs for new nurses. Quite frankly, it's just a bad time to be graduating from nursing school. Five years ago would have been a lot better. Five years from now it may be again--but I'm in the slump years, and I know it was meant to be so. I know He has not forgotten me. I know the joy of the LORD is my strength, and that I am doing this not for a good job or a paycheck or to impress anybody by having the "RN" letters behind my name, but I am doing this so that I may be of greater service to my Lord, wherever and whenever and however He should choose to use me. And if he never uses this profession, this skill set that is "nursing" which I have learned (though the thought is hard to swallow at the moment), I will not insist on using it. If He closes every door that I have knocked upon, I know it is because He knows better than I. Doors have already closed to me; even this afternoon I could scratch out another possibility on my list of hopefuls. And, for the first time, there is the possibility that I might have to leave all that I love and move away to find a job as a nurse, which brings me to some serious introspection: is it worth it? What is the point of what I'm doing? How much will I shell out in the name of Nursing? And, more importantly, it drives me into the Living Word to see what God is telling me to do, especially when each plan and sub-plan of mine are gently and firmly shut down.

But here is something surprising: as much as I hope for such-and-such opportunity to work out, and as much as I pursue it diligently, fill out the necessary applications and present myself as best I can, I have found an abiding equilibrium in knowing that it is He who ordains the future, and it is He who will orchestrate my life into a pleasing symphony of praise. When I get the letter, or answer the phone and receive the message of rejection (and I have, several times), it gets easier with each one--which is ironic, considering that rejection is generally depressing. But I am standing in the sun today; it warms and cheers my body, and I stand in the Son every day; He warms and cheers my soul. Being rejected has become almost exciting; I get to say, "Well, that wasn't it, was it, Lord?" And I smile, both in trust and bewilderment.

In the meantime, not knowing what the remaining year holds, and not even knowing where I will be in eight weeks, I'm surprised by His peace that allows me to notice and delight in the piano's muted arpeggios as the boys practice their music downstairs, the winter pear tree by the garden gate that just burst into a snowy froth of blossoms, and the delectable smell of the waffles some good soul is making for dinner. All is well when one walks humbly, trustingly, and quietly before the LORD of heaven and earth.