It was a cool California night in November 2005, ten short years ago. My husband comes home from his new position at a new church and tells me about auditions for the worship team: describing the people etc. etc. He told me about a gal that he wasn’t going to have continue on the worship team. Great, I tease, makin’ friends right off the bat. Because this gal and family were very plugged into our new church and I wasn’t sure how they’d react. Because I worry like that. Following what you believe God asks of you often doesn’t make sense and we go about our night.
Shortly after that, I get a call from this lady. She wants to take me to coffee. I’m all great, GREAT. Clearly, she wants to beat me up. She has too. I agreed to meet her and prepared my in defense of my husband speech and made sure my mouth guard was waiting in my purse. On the way to coffee, I called my best friend for back up. She was now living two hours away from me and I told her I was getting ready to get pummeled and I would call her when I was done, or released from the hospital.
I pulled up to meet my attacker who turned out to be the darling lady, who was wearing the darling beret, and carried a darling handbag, sitting in the corner. I thought it an odd choice to beat me up in, but I took a deep breath and entered the coffee shop…
and that began a beautiful friendship. No jabs. No cruel words. No mouth guard needed. She just wanted to meet me. Class act, that one.
Years of ministry work through thriving times in our church and times of not, we worked side by side and developed a deep relationship. It was clear God had so many other places he wanted to use this one and use her He does. Fast forward to fall of 2014 and we are hugging goodbye in my kitchen, as I am preparing for yet another move. I have been crying for about 4weeks straight by this point and Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam is my in head play list. All Cried Out, indeed. Then she says it. She whispers in my ear. Some one is going to take you to coffee. Go.
Words that seem simple but have such deep meaning to them. History. Authentic history.
She sends me care packages. It’s almost like I’m away at college. Books to feed my soul and a plaque that hangs in my closet “Put on your big girl panties” to remind me. She knows I need it. We’ve gone through some deep crap together along with our other girls from those years and good grief can I tell you how ridiculously blessed I am with my people back home. Still. They didn’t bail on me just because I’m 1800 miles away. We just adjusted.
God is so good.
Despite the fact that blog world can necessitate a certain sense of crypticness, I have left no secret in saying that I left California 16 months ago broken in pieces.
I have poured out portions of our story. I have doubted and questioned, but never ran. He has answered and encouraged through experiences that literally leave me speechless.
Because God binds up wounds. He heals. He takes circumstances where people mean to harm you and the devil is seeking to destroy you and He literally works them together for good. For. my. benefit. and I say Holla to that.
I am so grateful that He works in ways that continually surprise.
Don’t give up.
Joy comes in the morning.
Just like He said it would.
But let us fix our eyes on God, the author and perfecter of our faith. Heb 12:2
have you heard this song? go get lost in it.