The Path of Peace: A Reflection

You don't know when you're taking

the first step through a door

until you're already inside.

Ann Voskamp

A new beginning. A trepidatious return. Both parties anxious and excited. Both willing to turn to God and each other for their strength. February 18, 2009, a day marking parents first meet and the love of this couple. Too much weight for one day to hold. A bright, sunny day, I climb into a car- his car- filled with boxes, frames and plants. So many plants, it looks like a garden center on wheels. He locks the gate on our rental truck, securing all of our belongings. I watch him, excited for the future, nervous for the long, lonely drive, and sad for the friends and memories left behind. I send a quick joking text to a dear to brighten my mood. And to keep the tears at bay. This should be a happy day.

A scattered and frantic unload before dark: family in a jolly mood. Most to storage, a drizzle to Harborview. We find ourselves that night in a 100 square foot living space. I cry. The space is temporary. The space is free of charge. This space is a gift of love. Although my mind knows these things, my heart aches for room, for home, for community.

We take up life here. Surprised by the places God calls us to. Surprised by the old friendships, refusing to rekindle. Surprised by a love of this city. Dcf'ers come to visit on long weekends through Spring and keep our hearts light. You need distant friends to stick by you when you move somewhere new. We struggle through jobs, bills, friendless days and dryness. We live for the weekend and the promise of grilled vegetables and chicken on a barbecue, the sand and shells between our toes, the refreshing waves lapping, lapping, lapping. We live for a promise of tomorrow, waiting for God to show His way.

Surely the story comes. God reveals Himself in mid-October. He, put through the ringer, has been promoted with pay raises three times this year. And I, tired of meaningless jobs, am given a dream job utilizing passion for the written word and excitement for the treasure hunt historical research so often is. A new business is started, uniting mother and daughter, healing old wounds. A new church is planted in August; we attend from the beginning, finding community, friends, passion, and worship. We gift each other a new car, Liam, for Christmas. I cry, at the mercy and faithfulness of our Father. We move from a lovely wood-view apartment to family land. With walls we can paint guacamole, winter's day, fog blue, and nutmeg brown, we embrace this space and call it home.

With the loving mercy of our God, a new day from heaven

will dawn upon us. It will shine on those who live in darkness,

in the shadow of death. It will guide us into the path of peace.

Luke 1: 78, 79