Pitchin’ fits

God showed up in a very real way today.

Spoke so clearly, everything in my biorhythms shifted.  It wasn’t during worship, it wasn’t during lifegroup, it was in the truck on the way to the church.  We were late. I had nursery.  I was experiencing one of those delightful waves of frustrating tears — though, admittedly, these tears DID have some legitimate backing.  Some.  Not a lot.  Just some old flesh lying around, you know.

Oh, and I was sort of tired.  See, I woke up before 6am to go to the bathroom (ah, the joys of pregnancy) and when I laid back down, my mind thought it was 10am at the UN Council on Foreign Affairs.  Intense images of the things we’ve seen in the past month, considerations of all we would need and all we wouldn’t when we move, numbers crunching about in my head over how many months we might have left here — or might not, how the children were handling the imminent changes, how the *new* child would add to the mix and the move, on and on and on….  Blech.

After tossing about for 40 minutes, I had another disturbing revelation that I’d forgotten to do THE load of laundry with LittleMan’s Sunday pants in it (we’d broken rank and used them on Thursday) so I got up and tromped — quietly, but it was tromping nonetheless — downstairs to the laundry room.  On my way back up, I grabbed my Bible and plomped into the chair.

Then I mentally regressed back to 7th grade Sunday School.

“LORD, I know how immature this is, but I’m just going to read WHATEVER it opens to.  I just need SOMETHING and I don’t want to dig.  I’m so sorry.”

And the pages landed on Isaiah 40.

The first verse to grab my attention was “The grass withers and the flower fades, but the Word of our God stands forever.”  Aahh… I needed that.  He *is* eternal.

And as I began reading through the chapter, phrases kept leaping into giant text in my brain as my eyes tried to take it all in “Speak to My people… tell them…the glory of the LORD will be revealed… and all mankind will see it…a voice says, ‘Cry out,’ And I said, ‘What shall I cry?’… you who bring good tidings… say, ‘Here is your God!’…See? the Sovereign LORD comes in power…He tends His flock like a shepherd…He gently lead those that have young….“

And on and on and on, His Word in that one chapter spoke volumes over my despair.  If He’s sending… if we are going… let me “introduce” them to their God… He is gently leading me as His daughter — and a Mommy…

I also landed in Psalm 2, you know, the one we’re living through today where international leaders are trying to “break the chains” they feel God somehow imposes upon them; trying to get rid of Him as though He were an option.  LORD, let me serve you with fear and trembling.

There was, after those chapters, a wash of peace and I went back to bed for a bit (hence our late to church).  Once awake, I was in crisis mode, moving Sunday pants and a big dry towel into the dryer, moving two moderately willing participants into showers and hair prep, moving “normal” clothes aside to don an adorable preggo outfit my dear friend let me borrow, moving everyone — and everything — out to the truck as quickly as possible without use of a cattle prod.

So, about half way there, it hits me again that we could very well be in the final months of living in Georgia.  At least for now.  And so the tears welled up and threatened my impecably Lauder-clad lashes.   My mouth was quivering and I was doing my best to look INTENSELY interested in the scenery out my window (that I see at least 3-5 times a week).

Oh, and Parachute Band’s song “Surrender All” came on in perfect time for my mental and hormonal breakdown.  Because if I am honest, the issue is very spiritual in nature and my mind and hormones were simply enjoying a good opportunity for creative expression.  (We interrupt this blog to say that if you have not, for some unknown reason, discovered Parachute Band, you need to.  Right now.  These guys are intense worshipers who invite you to the Throne, prostrate in praise.  And they’re the Real Deal; ministers with voices AND hands, these guys put skin on “Christianity” Check ‘em out).

In the midst of my tears — accompanied by fitting background vocals — I heard Him.

If this is My plan, is there any stopping it?

No, Sir, there’s not.

Did you pitch a fit coming to Georgia 7 years ago?

Oh, yes, Sir, I did. It was bad.

Did I bless your move? Are you glad you’re here?

Yes, Lord, You did.  You continue to, and I am SO glad we are here.

So is it then possible that all the stress and worrying and fear and tears you spent before you moved to Georgia was useless and I was there when you got there and you had nothing to worry about?

Yes, sir.  It definitely would have saved a lot of heartache.

Is it possible that if Alaska is where I’m calling you, there’s no need to be worried about it either?

Oh, LORD, yes.  You’re right, there’s no need for worry. Please forgive me. I love you, Jesus.

And the wash of peace — again.  There’s just nothing to worry about — nothing.  LORD, please help me remember.

So this is me, stoppin’ my fit pitchin’.  As best I can, I’m laying it down.  And in the places I can’t, He’s gently leading me.  And He grants sleep to those He loves, doesn’t He?  Oh, my LORD is so sweet….

Amen, Jesus, Amen.