Half-packed Suitcase

“Is it okay to bring this many shoes?”

Heavy snow outside has piled up against my parents’ house, and darkness has long since fallen.  Upstairs, a suitcase sits half-packed on the floor of my childhood bedroom.  I’m staring at the suitcase, wondering what else I can safely pack away.  My time in Michigan isn’t quite done yet, so packing now is definitely not helpful, but nevertheless, onward I plow.
I’m excited to return to Monterrey, amazed by the ridiculously creative ways God is intervening to raise the necessary financial support – things I could never take credit for, because who would believe me?

Man, I have a lot of shoes.
They take up most of the suitcase.  I didn’t have a lot of them last year.  They are heavy-duty shoes, the kind I need for my new job.  Funny, isn’t it, how the contents of a suitcase can tell a story?  This one is telling the story of God leading me to trade the professional field for the mission field, and I couldn’t be happier.

A lot changed in 2016-17.  Careers, countries, languages.  Things and people I had considered “constants” faded out of my story.  And people, places, things, and opportunities I hadn’t even dreamed of were graciously handed to me as pure gift, in the timeliest and loveliest of ways.

I’m still looking at those mission field-ready shoes, wondering how to put into words what they represent.
Transition?  Sure.
Change?  Absolutely.
Calling?  Most definitely.
But something’s still missing here.

What’s rising to the surface is the quiet, steady assurance that our God is a God who values healing and restoration.  These words are, in fact, the words that He gave me to define 2017 and now 2018, respectively.  I’m learning that His way is like that of a gardener who gently digs around a young plant, clearing the old mulch and pulling the weeds choking it, then tenderly lifting the plant and propping it up toward the sunshine so it grows strong and vibrant.

Oh yes, this is His heart toward us.  Never calloused or cruel.  Ever near.  Ever for us.  Ever love.

(Honestly, I don’t know how I got all that from looking at a few pairs of shoes.  I guess it’s a byproduct of packing your life into 2 suitcases.)

The words of another young 20-something missionary come to mind:

“And shall I fear that there is anything that men hold dear
Thou wouldst deprive me of
And nothing give in place?
That is not so – for I can see Thy face
And hear Thee now:
‘My child, I died for thee.
And if the gift of love and life you took from Me,
Shall I one precious thing withhold –
One beautiful and bright, one pure and precious thing withhold?
My child, it cannot be.”’ -Elisabeth Scott Stam

I’ll pack more in this suitcase now, grateful we serve a God who is endlessly compassionate and unfathomably strong.  We don’t need to worry that He can’t hear our hearts, that He can’t (or won’t) notice our situations.
Maybe we won’t have all the answers tonight.
And that’s okay.  Grace for the long night.  Grace for the hearts that wait for the last piece of the miracle.
We’re in the best Hands possible.
And He knows your shoe size.