Emptied

In these 5 early months of 2015...

Life has presented such changes. 
And losses.
New steps, unfamiliar paths.

1) My husband left his job and headed in a different direction.

• I have lost my longtime identity and role as "cop's wife." 
• (The good, the bad, the ugly, the painful, the proud.)
• Husband leaving his familiar co-workers and friends and the law enforcement role.
• We are all adjusting to this new career, new routine, long commute times, unknown future plans for our family. (And big, big blessings.)

2) 2 of our precious children have had eye surgeries. 

• 2 times, we have faced that familiar but frightening letting go of a young one to the surgery room.
• 2 times, we have cuddled near and cared for a healing child, blessed by that skilled surgeon.
• Facing once again the reality that each of our children have faced this very same health need, and working through the struggles of parent-guilt mixed with immense gratitude for the gifts of treatment and healing. And the bittersweet acknowledgement that our children's issues are minor in light of much heavier health concerns others face.

Waiting times in the hospital.

Post-surgery snuggles with youngest boy.

My infamous post-good news crying spot at the nearby-Children's Hospital restroom of McDonald's. 

3) 3 my dear friends have moved away.

• 3 times I have felt my heart breaking.
• 3 times the loss has left me such a tender void in my spirit.
• 3 times I have faced the ever-normal and to-be-expected reality of life's many paths and turns and the tug of that precious loss of a kindred friendship's presence.

Goodbyes with my dear Miss Marianne.

And how I miss our dear Miss Rachel.

And a just-happening farewell to dear Miss Marcy.

Different paths, differently woven futures.

And the outcomes of these events; the job change, the hospital days, the goodbyes...

A tired heart.

A worn weary spirit.
Feeling emptied.

In these months of changes and adjustments, 

life's daily work has continued 

and 

children continue to have needs 

and 

they continue to grow 

and 

bills continue to come 

and 

life continues to push forward

and

God. continues. to. provide. 

The hours spin and the days are full.

But the adjustments and losses still distract and linger:

• The leaving of that familiar job and routine. (Even for a good new beginning!)
• The leaving of those precious friends from the daily life. (Even for those friends' good new beginnings!)

Big gulps and brave smiles 

when that familiar lifestyle ends 

and 

Heart-tightening and tears 

when that familiar friendly presence is gone.

For happy or for sad, 
it is a loss of the daily.

Something to be felt. 
And grieved and adjusted and settled into eventually.

And you contemplate how the changes leave you reeling...

Investing deeply into someone's life is when I feel most alive, most full of purpose and passion. Giving. Time. Sharing. Connection. Sacrifices. Caring. Loving.

Giving until it hurts, because it is so.worth.it. 
And giving until there comes that time for the farewell, and the loss of something so present and so real and almost tangible. 
And that void that appears and lingers.

And sometimes you sense the huge weariness-

your outpouring of energy and care for others is far exceeding 

your inpouring of the invisible (of God)-

then your days seem to collapse 
when the visible disappears (the familiar: faces, routines).

But yet you walk on, one step at a time.

"God does not tell you what He is going to do;

He reveals to you who He is."

(Oswald Chambers, "My Utmost for His Highest")

The void may feel like a deep craving for some kind of comfort, security, distraction, in the searching for what's next.
And I'm learning:

"Every day we wake up and chase the things we SEE, or we chase an INVISIBLE God. 

We were made to chase.

We have chased everything under the sun and we can't seem to catch what we're looking for. 

We're trying to take wind and make it feel like concrete.

God has given us eternity in our hearts... a space for God alone to fill."

(Jennie Allen, "Chase")

A space for GOD ALONE.

To be chased. 

To pursue.

To allow to be filled.
When we are emptied and at a loss, 
He can fill and refresh.

"We chase God, and we get something solid instead of wind."

(Jennie Allen, "Chase")

God holds us.

Protects, watches over.

When I consider TODAY, once again: 
The fresher-than-fresh coming loss of the presence of a precious friend as she moves away in just a few hours...

A sweetest plan was revealed to this tenderhearted girl:
Where a void is about to be felt in the visible absence of a friend,
I can welcome the space.
I can welcome the space that only God can fill.
I can pursue after Him even more fully. 
This empty space and loss does not need to remain empty. 
No, the One who created even me is always there and ready to be chased, discovered, and loved. 
He is ready to meet those deep-within needs of mine. 
(And those needs of yours.)

What promise.
What love.
I'm captivated.
I'm in.

This is the moment His promises become almost tangible.
The invisible has become real.
"The invisible... more like concrete than wind."
(Jennie Allen, "Chase")

The daily, visible presence of these friendships will continue to be missed and longed for and steadily grieved. 

And yet at the very same time, the invisible presence of my precious God will continue to care, lead, restore, guide. (Psalm 23)

Turning toward that most-beautiful light.

Life giving light.

Whatever or whoever has created that void in your own life or those hard-to-adjust-to changes you are facing,

may these words shared here encourage and nurture your own spirit and heart.

May we both run toward God, 

Chase after Him and what He alone can fill in us.

Breathe deep. 

Welcome Him home, into your space.

"The name of the LORD is like a strong tower; 

the righteous person runs to it and is set safely on high."

(Proverbs 18:10)

Blessings always,

Elizabeth