…and all my sand castles spend their time collapsing.
I’ve always loved this song. If I had to make a soundtrack of my life, this would be on it. Along with some Michael Jackson and Counting Crows.
The haunting feeling of goodness being stripped away is lurking back into my life. I am approaching my one-year anniversary of working here at Geneva. I would hope to feel a sense of accomplishment and purpose at this juncture. I would hope to have something I was proud of, something that required diligent effort and creativity, something I would want to hang on the fridge or place in a frame. That hasn’t really happened yet. My hope is fading.
I recognize the many blessings that have enriched my life throughout this past year. With this new job came a new town, new relationships, a new community. I have been provided for. I attribute this to the opportunity that I have been granted at Geneva. With my graduation looming in the not-so-distant future, I know that life as I know it will be changing – and soon. I have spent 19 consecutive years as a full-time student. That identity and status will be lifted, at least for awhile. The waters ahead are uncharted.
At this moment, my life seems to be imitating a tower of Jenga blocks. As supports are removed and expectations and assignments are added, my structure seems to be waivering a bit. Slow and steady moves allow the tower to reach higher. Day by day, block by block, I’ll keep analyzing next moves, poking and prodding the options, in efforts to extend my tower.
I’ve found hope in where my support is steadfast and unconditional. I am taken by the words of Isaiah 41; the prophet tells of the strength and help that surpasses all fear and uncertainty. Paths that have not been traveled by my feet before are not to evoke trepidation. Check it out. It’s helping me get through the day.
let me know that you hear me
let me know your touch
let me know that you love me
let that be enough.