The exact words spoken by so many people over the past few years: I don’t know how you do it, Nora.
Honestly, I don’t know how I do it, either.
Moving to Florida has happened in such a rush. For what felt like forever, we weren’t there yet. And then, it sprung upon us, and we were packing everything into a trailer & getting ready to go. This one has been the most difficult move for me, I think. Everything has been so sudden, so fast, and I haven’t been able to process what is going on.
Moving to Guatemala, we knew months ahead of time, and we spent those months diligently “putting our affairs in order” so to speak. We said goodbye to friends, we packed our belongings up carefully. And the same thing happened when we moved to Birmingham. We hugged people the day before we left, and we left full of hope & thrills for the new adventure.
Don’t get me wrong, there are tons of hope & so many thrills to be had on this adventure. But it feels different. Very different.
On the Fourth of July, we didn’t grill out or swim or get together with friends; we woke up & packed the apartment into a U-Haul, with only clothes & a little food left behind. I watched as my life was consolidated into a trailer half the size of the one I brought to Birmingham, and I broke down. I sat down in my kitchen & cried hot, angry tears. I mumbled to myself, I just want my momma. I want my momma. The world was spinning. I ran to bathroom, where I threw up for the first time in forever. I was so overwhelmed by it all that I made myself sick.
Because I don’t know how I do this. I don’t know how I pack up my world & move further & further away from the people I love most. I don’t know how I hug my family when I have no idea when I’ll ever see them again. I don’t know how I manage to sacrifice so much without the assurance of earthly gain. I have no clue how I do it.
Because Nora wants to stop. I want to pick a spot & stay there for more than a year. I want to find a job, find a home, find a place & a people for the rest of forever. I want to travel for a month & then come home. I am tired of traveling in order to find a home. I’m tired of making new friends & finding new places. I’m tired, more tired than a twenty-one-year-old millennial should be. My heart screams for all of it to stop.
And maybe I’m being dramatic. Lord knows I do that way too often. But this is my heart, and if you’re reading this, I think you like to hear it.
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
God brought this old hymn to mind when I was wallowing in so much grief. His Holy Spirit wrapped His loving arms around me & reminded me of so much joy that I haven’t even tasted yet.
He reminded me of all the things He’s done & will continue to do for me & through me.
He reminded me that this life is only a glimpse of the glory that awaits me.
He reminded me that my submission to Him results in joy.
He reminded me of the love & mercy that are free for me each day.
He reminded me of the rest that I find in Him & only Him.
He reminded me that there is peace in the waiting, because I’m waiting on Him.
Lost in His love; that is how I do it. Waiting on His presence to pour out over me, full of goodness & grace. There is no other way to do this life than praising my God, and I intend to do just that.