You see, I live in a densely populated suburb of Atlanta, and a road to run on without the smell of exhaust or the sound of cars whizzing by is difficult, if not impossible, to find. When I first moved to this area, it was not unusual to go on my walk there and never see another person or car. But as time has passed and more people began to discover its level pavement, great view and gift of peace and quiet, it was not unusual to see 3 or 4 folks in varied stages of their walks along this route. But it is still downright blissful.
It is appropriate to add at this point that I am now a preschool teacher, and most of you already know I have a very active, very talkative five-year-old. So moments of real quiet are a gift that I do not take for granted.
A few months back, I started hearing murmurings of a new developer coming to pick up where the last one left off on the huge plot of acreage that adjoins this road. That could only mean one thing. My sanctuary's days were numbered. Construction would soon begin, and inevitably, the city officials would have no other option than to finish off this road and open it to traffic. Of course, that only makes sense. It will likely make a significant impact on lessening congestion on the two heavily-traveled roads it intersects. But from a purely selfish perspective, I felt sad knowing that I would only have so many more runs on this stretch of road -- at least in its current state.
Then we heard the news...the road will reopen this Monday.
With the dreaded event looming, Chatterbox joined in the pouting. He rides his bike up and down this road often after school with me walking alongside him, talking about our day and pretending to be on a treasure hunt. As a mom, not having to worry about a car whipping out of nowhere has allowed me to enjoy this time together without being hyper-vigilant. Friday we ventured out on what would undoubtedly be our last bike ride together on that road. This is how our conversation went:
"Mom, we don't want the road to be open, right?"
"No, we don't."
"Well, let's talk to these workers right here (points to two men putting up a road sign) and tell them not to open it. They will understand. Let's go..."
"Ummm...it doesn't really work like that, buddy."
"Why?"
"Well it's not their decision. They are just doing their job."
"Then who makes the decision?"
"You know how Whoville had a mayor in that movie? Well, our city has a mayor too and I imagine that is the person who makes the final decision."
"Ok, well is the mayor still in his office? Let's go now..."
If life were only that simple.
Then, I said my goodbyes yesterday on my final solo run. As I listened to the rhythm of my feet on the pavement, I thought of the many conversations I had with God here. How I spent time working through my own garbage before I tossed it out. How I spent every pace of some runs just...listening. Listening to hear what He might have to say. About everything. My fears, my job, my goals, my desperation for healing...absorbing His goodness, wisdom, and peace.
Understanding more than ever His greatness...and my smallness. And how despite that disparity, He loves and cherishes me...even more than I cherish my own son.
Stick with me for a sec, because I don't want to lose you if you're not really a religious kind of person. If you ever REALLY get that...if you let that into your being and process it, at least as much as we can process that kind of information...it will change your reality. God will no longer be a concept, or something for other people...something for later when you have kids, or a subject to debate about over a glass of wine. It is a knowledge that, once known, will forever alter who you are. As a parent, I don't understand a love that can supersede what I feel and experience every day for my own child. But I'll tell you what -- if there is a love like that to be found...and I believe with my whole heart that there is...I want it. I need it. Because that is a game-changer. No matter what I do, no matter how much I fail or how much I succeed...no matter how far I run away from it, and even if I cease to accept it...He will love me.
Love changes everything.
This is why I know that if my sanctuary is taken away, God will make sure I find a new one. You might have heard this little ditty: when God closes a door, He opens a window. Many of us have experienced this in our lives...how we go through a season of darkness and we cannot see a way around it, over it or even through it, but somehow God makes a way. Or how people seem to drift in and out of our lives for no good reason...other than they are exactly what we needed in that one specific season of our lives.
You know how when a certain subject comes up multiple times in a few days, and you get the feeling that somebody's trying to tell you something? Well, the subject of manna is the headline of late for me. Do you know what manna is? Exodus tells the story of how God once fed the nation of Israel by causing manna, or a kind of edible substance that could be made into bread, to fall from the sky as they wandered in the wilderness.
Anyway, some of the folks got smart and tried to gather up enough to store, because they were living in fear of tomorrow. Despite the fact that they had exactly what they needed to survive today. I can just hear their inner dialogue: "What if manna doesn't fall tomorrow? Then I'll be hungry. My kids will be hungry. This Moses guy is nothing but trouble..."
But you know what happened? The stored food went bad. Fast. And God got a little peeved with His people. Because their actions were a reflection of their lack of faith. Faith that He knew what they needed, and would provide it when they needed it. Never early. Never late. Just in time.
He's got it under control. And if I still need a physical version of a sanctuary to receive certain revelations from God, I'm fairly certain I will find one. Because He loves me. No big theological points to make here.
He just...loves me.
So, I will not say goodbye to my sanctuary. See you 'round seems more appropriate.
The bird's-eye view of my sanctuary yesterday evening
Not to take away from the saying, but have you heard: " When God closes a door he eventually opens another one, but it can be hell in the hallway!"
ReplyDeleteHaven't heard that one, but can certainly attest that it is true enough!
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