There is a stump where a big beautiful oak tree used to stand tall over the river. We called it “Grandpa’s Tree” because my dad used to like to sit under it and quietly look out at the water. It’s a special spot for our family. We miss my dad and now we miss the tree too, but the stump provides a wonderful place to sit and even though it is no longer a glorious tree, it is still a lovely place to think, watch the horizon, and wait.

I’m sitting, legs crossed, waiting. I’m ready whenever God wants to show me what to do. It’s my daily pose. Nothing mystical, just comfortable and quiet while I wait for God to reveal the plan…the way to go…the next step.

I’m a little anxious for something, but I’m not sure what. I’m ready for the next things because I’m tired of this thing. God hasn’t shown me that He’s tired of this place. Actually the exact opposite. He seems to be quite content with me here. Waiting. I’m trying to wait patiently. But that word kind of feels like a curse word sometimes. Patiently. How many times has someone joked, “Whatever you do, don’t pray for patience”? 

I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m sitting patiently, but I believe I could say that my attitude is one of expectancy. I’m expecting God to do something. How could He not? There has to be more to life than this feeling of constant tumult. I’m sure there is because at times I catch glimpses of it. Sometimes there is a quiet moment where suddenly, and without understanding how or why, I feel peace. 

I read in Brennan Manning’s book Abba Father, “When we accept the truth of what we really are and surrender it to Jesus Christ, we are enveloped in peace, whether or not we feel ourselves to be at peace. By that I mean the peace that passes understanding is not a subjective sensation of peace; if we are in Christ, we are in peace even when we feel no peace.” (Manning, 2015, p. 27)  

My life is peace, because Jesus is my life. (Col. 3:4). 

I know that Jesus is my peace, but sometimes I just really truly want peaceful circumstances. If I listed the number of things that have been wonky and/or costly in the past two weeks, you’d understand my longing. You’d understand why I ask God, “Why?”

I asked it the other night and all of a sudden I realized, “It’s okay. Everything is okay even when every thing is not.” To my deepest parts I felt it, it’s all okay. Things break and need fixing.  All. The. Time. And I mean that in the strictest sense of the word…continually, always, repeatedly, without ceasing, all the time. BUT I’m still here. I am still blessed. God still provides. God still takes care of things. God stays even in my life of broken things. 

When the repairman comes and the fix is unexpectedly everything I wouldn’t want it to be, God is neither absent nor surprised. He is there…”Sweet daughter, we got this! You don’t need to worry.”  

When parenting brings me to my knees, He is there…”Dearest, I love them even more than you do. Don’t be afraid.” 

When questions tear around my brain without ceasing, He is there…”Precious child, rest in my love. Spend time with me instead of all those thoughts.” 

There is a theme in my life of me looking for things to be different and God staying the same. 

There is a longing in my life for calm and God offering me peace. 

There are difficult thoughts and God’s words giving me strength.

There is hope for a better future and God reminding me that it’s all good, I don’t need to worry. 

I’m the little girl frantically searching for all the things my Father has already given me. If I can just sit still and be with Him, I’ll find them all. So I’m just going to sit here…listen, pray and wait…somewhat patiently…for my Abba Father to show me His great and beautiful plan for my life.

Manning, B. (2015) Abba’s Child: the cry of the heart for intimate belonging. NavPress.