Give Me a Sign

I'm going to start off this post with a tangent.
I love roller coasters. LOVE them. I've been on roller coasters in...

Wait... let's play a game! I will name the city, and you tell me the name of the theme park. Now don't get all serious and google it...it's not like I'm The Pioneer Woman, giving out cool prizes. Although, if I were to give out a prize, it would be a photo of me: 7 years old, wearing a high-necked, short-sleeved, striped shirt and army green Toughskins, standing next to Goofy, in one of those neato little slide viewer key chains:

I spent about an hour looking for these and this is about all I could find! Unbelievable! Are these awesome little things just not on the planet anymore? And someday, that link is going to be useless because somebody's going to snatch those suckers up!

Anyhoo, I digress.

Guess what Theme Parks I've ridden roller coasters in, based on these cities:

1. Anaheim
2. Blackpool
3. Buena Park
4. Denver
5. Portland
6. Santa Clara
7. Santa Cruz
8. Valencia

Basically, I've ridden a lot of roller coasters, for an average Joe. They come in all different flavors: scary-fun, scary-unsafe, boring, fast, loopty-loop, free-fall, smooth and modern, old and rickety and what I like to call Neck-n-Back: the ones that give you a migraine and send you straight to the chiropractor. Then there's the ridiculous, portable Carnie Coasters, but I'm not even counting those.

And here ends the campy tangent.

By far, the most unpredictable ride I've been on yet, encompassing all of the above listed flavors, is the Vondercoaster. Being married, having children and becoming an adult (in that order, I'm sure) has been loopy, rickety, fun, unsafe, thrilling, noisy and suspenseful. My stomach has dropped to my toes on numerous occasions and I have consumed more soda and corndogs than I ever would have otherwise. Some people are on wilder rides than the Vondercoaster, I know. But sometimes the dips and turns seem really deep and sharp, and it's all I can do to keep from loosing my cookies.

The other day David came home between jobs (that's right: "jobs" --there's a sign of the times for ya), and we were discussing why the thermostat is set to, oh, 90 degrees or so and yet the house won't get above 56? Sure it's an old house and it's below freezing, but this isn't normal. We later learned that we just needed to clean out the filters. But that day I was so discouraged. After picking up the kids I was driving to the grocery store, allowing my thoughts to spiral down, down... I mulled over how hard things are, how just when we can't afford it both our cars are having problems, the roof is leaky, outlets keep failing and my mom is afraid we're going to have an electrical fire and the house will burn down. The furnace needs work, our poor little children are freezing to death...I'm thinking about the Hispanic family I delivered a meal to one Christmas, 15 people huddled under blankets without heat. They probably had food stamps...but no heat...was our food patronizing to them? I started to think (like I sometimes do) that things were getting too hard for us to handle.

And usually, when I get like this and things seems too dark and too desperate, I can manage to push and lift and heave-ho this heavy burden into the Lord's open, waiting hands, because for all our human efforts, it would take a miracle to keep us from unraveling completely. But today I doubted. I wondered if it was all too much, too fast. Too much unraveling to keep up restoration. Too many miracles to ask for... is that possible? Where does God draw the line at grace and provision and pull out the tough-love? (I'm sure there's a good lesson we need to learn somewhere here.) Have we already received too much?

And then at the intersection of a neighborhood full of construction, I look over at the stop sign-- the temporary kind on the ground in the middle of the street.


Do you see that? It has been graffitied with "everything will be okay". Of course, I started bawling right then and there in that intersection! "Okay, God. Okay," I said out loud. And that was all I could say as I spiraled back up in a fog of humility and relief.

That day, I got home to this email from David:

"I know it's very cold (26.2 F in Portland) right now, but please be thankful for that God is faithful. He is with us, and providing for our needs. Praise Him!... in a sweatshirt and jacket, as we figure out how we can make it warmer in the house."

Sometimes God speaks through my husband at just the right time, confirming...confirming.

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I just got off the phone with David as I write this, discussing our van's leaky transmission and the Christmas tree on our front porch (as in, not in the house, decorated) and he reminded me that we are moving forward. It may be slow, but we are making progress.
And that is the definition of success to us.

"Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail."

Lamentations 3.21-22