I have been silent for a while.
Interesting things have been happening, and in the effort of sorting through it all, blogging has slid off my radar. In itself this should have been a clue that big changes were coming my way because my norm is to use writing as a way of sorting through life. When I lose the will to write, it means HUGE, scary things are going on in my brain.
The first four months of 2014 were tumultuous. I walked away from a failing ministry and a church because I felt God leading me elsewhere, yet I still hadn’t been told exactly where elsewhere was. I had issues at work that made me question myself professionally and personally. I lost some friends and willingly gave up others because they were pulling me away from my journey toward an emotionally and spiritually healthier me. And some other changes prevented me from following my usual social routine, resulting in a long, slow drift away from life as I knew it.
In the drifting, it got silent. At times it felt as though even God had left me, although in hindsight I can see him there, standing a step or two back and quietly directing my steps.
I have come to realize that the times when I am most tested in my faith, and when I feel most alone, are the times when God is getting ready to do something big. He is the master potter, molding the vessel that is me. He crafts it with expert hands, knowing just when to add water, when to spin the potter’s wheel, and when to stop it. Sometimes it becomes necessary to smash the whole thing together and start over.
During the first half of 2014 my life became one big ball of sticky, shapeless mud.
Somewhere along the halfway point of 2014 the wheel started moving again. God’s hands came on me again, shaping and molding me. I became accutely aware of every trial I have endured over the last nine years. I spun, and spun, and spun, grimacing against the pressure of His hands, my eyes stubbornly shut.
The one day the dizziness stopped and I opened my eyes. I saw my beautiful shape in the mirror, and all of the colors that God had layered through the cracked and broken clay. And then the master potter picked me up gently and set me on a new shelf, where new adventures await and the silence melts into a cacophony of beautiful chaos.
As all these new things fill me, I am amazed to find myself on some small shelf, in a tiny corner of this world. I am an inconsequential vessel, undeserving of all these blessings. Humbled and filled with love.
And I am so grateful for the silence that brought me here.