The place of grace that I’ve begun to notice that I inhabit
is such an incredible reality that it’s utterly humbling. These transitions
don’t have to be this “easy,” these goodbyes this simple. I didn’t have to have
such beautiful teammates that are a true orchestra of love, rather than a
crashing cymbal of brokenness. Sure, we have our struggles, but those crashing
noises are redeemed through love and grace to be a beautiful melody, dramatic
and punctuated with rests and fortes. And when worked out with a mutual
commitment to love and honor one another and work towards unity, what a blessed
environment that can be. Growing and stretching, for sure, but that’s what
brothers and sisters and trials are for.
The grace to have the opportunity to teach so many wonderful
teachers, the grace to actually enjoy the camp with all the students. The grace
to live life beside dear Katie, sharing meals and runs together. I don’t
deserve the grace to be able to go to PIB, especially having all the money
provided. I’ve done nothing to earn the chance to go to both Australia and
Malaysia, to decide to go spur of the moment and leave the next day, to sleep
on so many planes. The grace that allowed me to sleep in the airport and has kept
from getting sick thus far. The grace to sleep so much, to sort of catch up on
my sleep deficit.
The grace to have a room to come home to, even if it’s the
cat’s room. The grace to overcome so many of these stomach problems.
It’s a mystery to me how I can be drowning in so much grace
and still question his nearness. How so many waves of grace crash over me, yet
I forget and ask where is he. God I believe, help me in my unbelief.
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