I’m unpacking lunch boxes, handing out after school snacks and listening with all ears tuned to little people chatter about their day, when out of the blue her call comes through.
Her…the one who’s journeyed deep waters with me. Who wasn’t afraid of rampaging texts as I worked honestly through the latest crisis at hand.
The one who stood firm in faith as funds emptied and we waited for jobs to come through.
The one who always said confidently “Jesus goes with you” as we’d up and pack for another “even though I walk through the valley” travel.
And all this mostly through text and email. The encouraging steady heart of a friend reassuring she was there through it all.
Not wearying that the battles re-occurred and bloodied everyone in the process.
She was and is and will be there.
We chatted small talk when a catch in my throat caught as she revealed her true reason for calling: to cheer on one who was battle weary.
The words were few, but something in her quiet resolute heart opened a window of my soul giving permission to feel.
To feel how hard it’s been.
To count the cost.
To shed tears of loss.
To remember that in all the getting it wrong, my Father’s heart is always warmed by faithfulness. By our picking-back-up-agains to follow into unknown seas.
And for the first time in months, tears flowed and didn’t stop long into the moonless night.
The ticket out of survival mode.
Softening a heart preparing it for spring planting.