No one would look at this door and say that it’s closed or that it is shut because, well…it’s still open.
Even though it’s cracked open a bit, it’s still open. And that means something.
It wasn’t until a recent trip to our former home state did I realize that attempting to sustain part of our lives back there, was me trying to keep doors open, trying to convince myself that I could have an open/closed door; you know, both. As much as I tried, my efforts were getting in the way of God’s plans.
I knew the doors needed to be closed but I didn’t have the capacity, strength or courage to do it on my own.
This is how God works though…
In the last few months of journaling through some challenges, emotions and uncertainty, a lot of fear was realized. Had I made the right move? Was I sure that it was God’s voice calling us here to Texas? What would it look like if we really made a life here?
Since our move to Texas in June of this year, we’d been back to Wisconsin three times. Yep, you read that right, three times in four months. There were plans that had been made, relationships being sustained and obligations to honor. And they were all good things, but they were keeping the door open.
And that was holding me back.
So, God was hearing my heart that I’d poured out in my journal. He heard me asking for guidance, reassurance, permission and encouragement – I wanted to keep one foot and a large part of my heart back in Wisconsin. I know it may not make sense, but I knew that I didn’t enjoy living in Wisconsin toward the end, the winters had become brutal and I’d accrued enough hurt in the last decade that it was clear that I needed a change. It was time, but the unknown
was has been scary.
I’m not sure about you, but I can tend to go into ‘control mode’ and would rather have something familiar (even if it’s messy or hard or not quite right) than completely open my heart and hands to God and allow Him to fill them up. I grasp onto something decent and good and try to put it under my power, my strength and my will but it distracts me from being fully open and faithfully embracing the challenges and adventure (the gifts) as He intends.
It still hurts to admit that I came late to the recollection of what had been clear for sometime…
That it was time to let go of the last pieces holding our hearts in Wisconsin. It was time to step away from the identity that had come upon us/that we had embraced for the past few years and time for me to let go of a new loving relationship that had just gotten too difficult with the distance.
Holding onto these things were keeping the door open. I was trying to live well & full from across country; essentially keeping the door open.
So because I was struggling to let go, God did it for me. He spoke love and grace into people’s hearts and I was gently prodded to close the door on continuing to speak about an identity that I’ve been burdened under for some time. He whispered into the heart of the man I’d grown to care deeply for and gave him the strength to speak the words needed for us to end our relationship.
The time had come to fully open my palms to the Lord. To let Him be at the helm and to let go of Wisconsin. The good, the bad, the hopes, the pain, the past. It was time to accept the pain of saying goodbye and begin stepping more fully into the uncertainty of this new place. Of being the new girl. Of building and starting completely new. Wholly, faithfully, with an open heart.
It is still so painful. There is so much unknown. So much is unsure. But, I do know that God answered prayers I’d been journaling for awhile, just not in the ways I’d expected. That He’d known I would be hurting and need a support network to get through – and they have (and continue to) come with love in droves. He has lightened my load in expectation and has passed my minutes with breaths of hope and promise.
Even though I can’t see them clearly yet, I know that gifts are being prepared.
The very perfect gifts that God has planned just for us as we finally pull the door closed and begin to fully live our new lives here in Texas.