This is not the Part 2 that I tell you all how you can be more mindful, because right now in the past forty-eight hours, I’ve seen every extreme emotion feasible for a twenty-four year old girl to have. The whole moving process to Atlanta has been stumbling block after stumbling block. If it’s not a $500 bill, it’s another $499 bill. And if there’s some paper-work to fill out for an apartment it means fifteen phone calls and un-returned voice mails. Or, it’s a sleeping grandfather who you’re to nervous to wake up to request that money order he said he’d loan you.
I don’t know why it hasn’t been easy. I’ve had months of planning, and I started interviewing weeks ago. However, each job has taken two weeks to schedule a second round of interviews until the last two positions spread their offers so far apart that it wasn’t until days before starting the job I chose that the last one offer came through.
So then I’ve been scrambling back and forth to Atlanta with a truck full of all of my belongings because still as of this hour I’m not moved into my apartment but I’m out of my old one.
I feel like Job, but my stumbling blocks are small in comparison. He was doing everything he was supposed to. He didn’t visibly have any issues, yet terrible things kept occurring in his life. And like his friends and family questioning his decision, I get the same every day. After every road block I get, “Are you sure this is the Lord’s will?” “Has he told you to actually move?” Until I’m almost convinced that this whole thing is a huge mistake, and I have made the worst decision of my life, and until the Lord physically writes down what I’m supposed to do on real paper with real ink in a vision in front of me I am not supposed to move.
See, I thought this, probably literally until four or five hours ago as I was bawling because I was missing my best-friends wedding shower, I was unable to afford to board my horse in the most beautiful farm 15 minutes from my future apartment, oh and because I was too nervous to wake my grandfather from a nap to request the loan he’d already agreed to to pay for my new apartment’s security deposit.
I’m driving. (Because I drive a lot. I’ve put 10,000 miles on my vehicles since May 11. I feel like that’s a lot) and I’m thinking about a passage I read last night in James 1 about trials and tribulations. In the first verses it says that we can have joy through these tribulations. That those without wisdom are tossed and turned like waves in the oceans, but those who believe God’s will serves a purpose, can have joy. It goes on to say that when in question, ask the Lord for wisdom because these trials and tribulation while not lightning bolts thrown by God, are allowed to occur and through perseverance make us stronger.
So right then I’m asking for wisdom and contemplating this joy. How can I have joy when my plan isn’t working out like I planed!? But I’m stunned to realize all these little blessings have occurred over the past forty-eight hours as I’m wound up in my own self.
I’ve been missing so many of these extremely beautiful blessings while worrying over these trials that are going to pass. My horse has a welcoming home; I just dropped her off at the most perfect facility that a graceful coach welcomed me to within a few hours notice. I’ll have the opportunity to ride around some of the best young and adult riders in the southeast and audit Olympic riders. (Small jump from Alabama riding her quarter-horse around the cows.) It’s perfect, and welcoming, and the right footing in the ring for Frye’s fancy feet.
Second, My engaged best friend, who while I may miss her shower and cake, now lives in the same city and works with lots of eligible bachelors and has the same taste in wine.
Then, That horse who sold months ago, the payment came in Friday. Like this past Friday. Why was I worried all those months, if it had come at any other time those funds would have been spent on a $400 D’yon Bridle because horse tack is my weakness, and just covered so many moving costs instead.
See, I’m going to cry again. All these seemingly big or small trials. They go away. Maybe some last hours to years but in the lifetime they go away. And all the time, really incredible things are going on that are missed if you allow yourself to get bogged down. I get frustrated at myself, because I’m like I could have had a lot more joy if I didn’t let one or twenty bad things distract my focus from everything else.
The cool story about the end of Job is that after he loses wealth, family, his skin, it’s all returned to him ten-fold. He became a great leader and went on to prosper and be A-Okay. So the moral is I’m going to be A-Okay. Hard things do not mean that you’re doing the wrong thing or being punished. They’re tools to make you stronger and more mature.
Dear Lord, please do not take away my skin like Job. But if it’s in the works, I’m just going to have faith that some Jesus-loving boy with a frat swoop and a Barbour vest will still like me and it’ll be A-Okay. Amen.