The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23 NASB
Read previous segments here:
The Beginning
The Injury
The Furnace
The Waiting
Employment
The House
The Phone Call
The Truck
The Car
The Business
Nightfall
December 2, with eyes turned toward Christmas and the long winter ahead, I found myself
at the beach, lying on a borrowed beach blanket, soaking in the 75-degree warmth of the sun, Fernando's caress on my arm reminding me I was not alone. We came to California to be with family at the death of Fernando's aunt, and here we were absorbing the surreal summerlike scene before us.
It's hard to believe we're over two years into this strange, wonderful, confusing journey. I've concluded that we're not simply on a detour; we're traveling an entirely new road, without a map. And not just one twisty-turny road, but one marked with exit ramps on to new paths, through tangled forests and dry deserts, with rest stops and interminable stretches of just driving and driving, purposelessly but we know there's a purpose and an end...
But, for now we were at the beach, with a glorious view: children searching for pretty shells, surfers seeking that big wave, and sandpipers skittering along the sand just out of the water's reach. This day was made for rest, not only in the middle of a week spent with family, but rest from our waiting, and trusting, and wondering, and questioning. Simply resting in Him.
Fernando has been filling out job applications--dozens of them--these past weeks, seeking an additional source of revenue since income from his business had slowed down. He decided on this new course in order to secure steady work, while at the same time determined to work his business as a side job until it could become our main source of income. And I determined to follow and support him,
whatever it takes, in the words of my practically-a-sister and dear friend Tressey.
Fernando doesn't doesn't fret and worry about the future, how we'll make it, or what's going to happen. That's what I do, deep inside, far away from the calm exterior.
I don't understand. It seemed the Lord had opened all the doors for Fernando to start his business and begin earning a living. Why did that end after just a few months? What was the purpose of all that work? A beautiful morning, a promising and bright blue day, and then so soon, nightfall. I honestly don't know the next step from here.
As I sat there watching the sun go down, snapping an occasional picture and keeping an eye on waves encroaching on my camera and tripod, I felt the sun going down on this new road. Was it already time for an unknown detour, another undetermined off-ramp to who knows where?
In the midst of all these questions, there was peace, and uncertainty, and hope, and a somewhat desperate trust. I
know the Lord holds my future. I
know His plans are sure. I
know He loves me with an everlasting love. I
know my future is certain in Him. But I doubt nonetheless. I am afraid.
But to Mary, to Zacharias, to Joseph, to the shepherds, to Jairus, over and over, He says,
Do not be afraid.
As the sun set, and the ocean waves grew softer through the lens of my camera, His Spirit stirred in me the same words that could calm a heart or a storm on the sea.
Do not be afraid.
Quietly, as the waves flowed in and ebbed, I breathed in, then out. The night fell. These words were enough.
And, just a few weeks later,
the next segment is here for you to read!
Back to life,
Christine
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