It seemed like a dream, too good to be true,
when God returned Zion’s exiles.
We laughed, we sang,
we couldn’t believe our good fortune.
We were the talk of the nations–
“God was wonderful to them!”
God was wonderful to us;
we are one happy people.
And now, God, do it again–
bring rains to our drought-stricken lives
So those who planted their crops in despair
will shout hurrahs at the harvest,
So those who went off with heavy hearts
will come home laughing, with armloads of blessing.
–psalm 126, the message
Three years ago, I got sick. Two years ago, I went back to school. One year ago, I began my application for journeyman. Today, I struggle to write and to process through this whole journey. I have an overseas assignment, a fabulous teammate, and a very, very long to-do list. I have the most supportive family, an amazing group of friends who rally together more quickly than I could ever ask them to, and a season of rest keeping me here for a few more months.
And, honestly, it’s hard to be here. It doesn’t make sense. Another waiting season? Is it always going to be about waiting? Not that I’m twiddling my thumbs over here, believe me. Rest is work. Waiting is working.
You know what makes waiting especially uncomfortable? Relationships. Unless they are in the waiting room with you, unless they know all the details leading up to walking through to that next step, it’s hard to relate. To talk about it. I have twenty acronyms on the tip of my tongue that no one (save a few) gets.
I don’t know how to say goodbye. Because there’s still seven months or so before I step onto a plane. But I live hundreds of miles from most of these relationships, and technology isn’t the greatest thing (though we act like it is, and it is great…but, it’s not. it’s really not), and goodbyes are in the form of a major road trip to see many faces all at once.
And my body aches. It feels a whole heck of a lot like it did three years ago, which is a scary thought for someone about to move overseas for two solid years.
But this calling, this desire, this fulfillment awaiting each moment’s obedience, it doesn’t shift. It’s a foundation under my shaky feet, my feet just wanting to be beautiful, my feet just stretching for that next step. Because, we’re not the ones called to be rock solid. He’s rock solid. We’re just here with boots on the ground.
So, tonight, amid prayers concerning all of the above, came the plea of the psalmist: “and now, God, do it again.”
Two years ago, I went off with a heavy heart. I went back to MC weighed down and wondering if I would make it. God healed me and did some amazing, amazing work in those last few semesters.
Four months ago, I came back home laughing (even if I was crying about it), with armloads of blessings, and pictures to prove it.
Right now, my heart again finds itself heavy. Yes, even with excitement building and anticipation growing. Even an overflowing heart gets heavy.
But He keeps me praying. “Do it again, Lord.”
