“Is Anna going to die,” my niece asked my sister through glazed eyes. I told Aubrey the day before that I would be going to where Jesus was born. We quickly clarified that I was going to where Jesus was from not heaven! All that to say, yesterday we bought our tickets to Israel. I will be leaving January 12 and returning February 2.
for more details visit the “Israel” page…
As I sit here, I listen to a familiar sound in my neighborhood. It’s the jingle of “Do your ears hang low?” resounding from the ice cream truck parked out front. Some may think it strange to have an ice cream truck present on December 15, but I call it comforting. Because I love ice cream? No, not necessarily, I have never actually bought anything from this ice cream man. Actually, because it so accurately represents this season of my life, bizarre, yet surprisingly sweet. This is my last night here in DC for I am not sure how long. The past days have been spent reminiscing, celebrating, drinking coffee, packing, laughing, crying, rejoicing, mourning, praying, worshiping, and appreciating the goodness of the Lord this year. By no means has this been an easy year, but it has been a full year. Full of tears and full of laughter. A year fully lived, fully embraced, and fully touched by the Lord.
At first glance it may appear stiff, green, frayed carpet, but look closer and so much else is found on this cold hard floor. Memories dance through my head. The way this room transforms. There were many quiet still moments of waiting on Him staring out the window at the gray January days. Then comes the coats dropped on this floor, the shedding of layers when returning from the cold hours spent praying at the wall (the Supreme Court). The moments of us laughing, talking, singing, and praying together. The middle of night moments come next, delirious moments, and funny comments made. Something deeper, friendships forming, covenants confirmed, while fighting a battle so much bigger than our little lives could contain. We learned how to fight in this room, to fight for the smallest lives, and also for each other. The pacing, the weeping, the contending, the whispering, oh if these walls could talk, what would they say? Consecration follows. How much death lies here? How many tears has this carpet absorbed? What parts of my heart lie here, alongside boxes shattered, and theologies shook? I laid on this floor this summer while deep truths penetrated my heart and mind, forever shifting paradigms and changing even our language. Things have come full circle now as I sit here staring at the green carpet. The weather outside is gray and rainy, the room is silent. Once again I pour out my heart upon this floor, at the feet of my love, seeking, waiting, watching. This floor is not a comfortable place. It often makes me squirm underneath the hand of my father. I can’t avoid it either. There is something about this floor that releases all that is caged up within me, be it joy or mourning. There has been many open heart surgeries performed on this table, but also a great healing has come. What do I leave here in this place, and what will forever go with me? Will I ever know how much life has come through the deaths? Will I ever really understand all that has happened in and through me in this room? Perhaps, not, but I will embrace each moment, be it great laughter or deep pain. He is good through it all. He is working all things together for my good, because I love Him, I do.