On Sunday, six weeks to the day since I boarded a plane to Philadelphia, I’ll arrive home in Minneapolis for spring break. “Arrive” sounds like such a calm, sane, mature word – more likely, I’ll be apologetically pushing my way through the terminal, bounding down the escalator, and jumping with shrieks of glee into the arms of my man. And you don’t believe me.
Somehow, the days have turned to weeks, and the weeks into a month and a half.
So much of what has been good about this time has been in the unexpected. Coming here, I hated the fact that all of it was unexpected and unknown. I’ve realized how much I rely on the “known” – familiarity, dependability, sameness, stability. The things that I think are safe and sure.
These things come in appliances: ovens, dishwashers, stoves, and tea kettles. Routines: M/W/F teaching assignments, office hours, class schedules, paper deadlines. Places: my house, my church, my grocery store, my Starbucks. Geography: the same route I drive to the bus station and the path I walk to school when I get off. And, of course, people: friends, family, colleagues, professors, and my husband.
I didn’t realize what trust I placed in these things until I arrived in a place where they were all removed. Nothing was the same. There was no normal. And my best friend, the love of my life, was 1200 miles away.
But God has used the lack of these appliances/routines/places/geographies/people to convict me of my misplaced trust. Because there is One Thing that never changes – and that’s Jesus. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He sees us and knows us, regardless of place, mental/emotional state, or our past. Even when we are convinced that He doesn’t have a clue.
I go home by way of Washington, D.C. – another place full of memories, a place that, for me, carries the sovereign stamp of God’s merciful hand at a distinct moment in my life. Past, present, and future all wrapped into one.
And another reminder to my unbelieving heart that even when we don’t have a clue what God is weaving and working, that “not having a clue” is an indication not of His fault or failing, but of the blindness of my own heart.
Oh, that I would have eyes to see.





