The sun has finally parted through the clouds, blessing us with its glorious presence. How I’ve missed you, our collective heart sings. I’m daydreaming of continuously bright days, buds on the trees, and the simple pleasures of spring. It will come, as it always does, the calm after the storm. And we will appreciate it that much more for having left us longing these lengthy winter weeks.
There was such a glorious spring day in 2013. I walked out of my college art history class, down the cherry-blossomed sidewalk to the music building. I was overcome with a sense of great joy. This was a beautiful day, and I was alive and well to bear witness to it! This moment was also markedly important because, for the first time, I truly understood – and felt – that there is a God. Art’s history is full of people making art about God and by attending that class, I got to see this art which helped my questioning mind find some answers. I am a visual learner, after all, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Yet it is only now, 10 years later, that I am making this connection. Isn’t that surprising?
I told my Christian friends about my epiphany, and they were so supportive and happy for me. It was a special moment to bond us closer. Today, those same friends and I have weathered 10 years of metaphorical and physical storms; each time we have used the common language of God, trying to find meaning and purpose and direction through faith. It helps to be able to question things with and of the Creator with your best friend. It is important.
Now I find myself called to walk through a rather unpredictable storm: my husband and I are trying to buy a house. It is a lot different today than it was 10 years ago, when we easily found our starter home in NC. Today’s housing prices and mortgages are staggering and intimidating. My anxious mind wants to ensure that our future is protected, that I have planned for the possibility of the sky falling, and that I can catch it when it does. Silly me, I don’t know anything. I am not clairvoyant. I cannot predict the future. Because of this, I want to throw in the towel and give up altogether. But I know that’s not what I am called to do right now; right now, I am supposed to keep journeying until I arrive at some unknown destination in an unknown amount of time. Keep going, you’ll find out when you get there.
Journeys like this are equally stressful and interesting because of all the unknowns and they certainly test your faith. It’s not easy to trust that it’ll all work out when you really don’t have any indication in this particular moment that it will. And then a decade later, you look back and see that it did, and that it worked out even better than you could have imagined. The experience of it all was summed up perfectly by my son when he described God as “big, weird, and magical.” Indeed.
And just as I typed“God is big, weird, and magical,” I received a call from a dear friend I haven’t spoken to in years. It was a wonderful surprise and left me feeling buoyed with connection and love. This sequence of events reminds me that what we’re focused on, what we convince ourselves is the most important thing right now, is not always accurate. There I was worrying over my future and was instantly, gratefully, snapped out of it and brought back into the present. The here and now is the most important place to be.
And in the meantime, we can find comfort from the Native American Proverb which reminds us to “give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way.”
Photo by Tschernjawski Sergej on Unsplash
The Honest Journey 
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