I try to read the signs to figure it out; often there are no signs to be seen so I turn even the most non-signs into signs. Is that you, Lord, or just a random post? Does that bird mean something or is it just pretty? What is it exactly you’re doing?

It’s as if we’re on a grand adventure and He’s just waiting for me to guess clue #7 correctly, or find the right spot for the puzzle piece (though it sits alone on the table and I don’t even have edges or corners separated out yet). And if I don’t guess right or can’t fit the piece, then shoot…His hands are tied.

It’s ridiculous, is it not?

The hardest part about this journey with God is the being still and the waiting and the trusting that even though I don’t see it, He’s working.

Most days, trusting this is enough. I’ve lived through enough with Him over all these decades that I trust implicitly in His goodness and rejoice in His faithfulness.

But every once in a while, out of the clear blue on a busy Monday afternoon or a quiet Saturday morning, I’ll be reminded of that deeply buried dream that mostly lies dormant. It will unearth itself and rear its head and stare at me wildly in the face–almost taunting, but more like yearning? Like maybe the dream wants me too, as much as I want it?

When those times come, I have a good cry but wonder why God doesn’t just take the dream away if it’s not going to happen already. I tend to prefer the days I’m numb to it than the ones where I feel my skin is inside out–all nervy and vulnerable. Where my emotions heat to a rolling boil and I have to decide if I’m going to pray or have a Pity: Party of One.

Most times I choose to pray. Sometimes I opt for the party. I tend to think He’s okay with both.

I never stay down too long–usually, just long enough to lament, and to decide once again to choose contentment and gratitude; life is indeed so beautiful. And to tell Him again (really to remind myself) that I’m totally okay if it never comes to pass. I will trust Him no matter what.

(Okay, maybe totally okay is a stretch, but He knows what I mean.)

I lay IT back down and pick what’s in front of me back up. I get busy with what’s mine and scurry about like a crab on the beach, happy to just be in the sun (Son).

Even if the fig tree does not bloom and the vines have no grapes, even if the olive tree fails to produce and the fields yield no food, even if the sheep pen is empty and the stalls have no cattle—even then, I will be happy with the Lord. I will truly find joy in God, who saves me. (Habakkuk 3:17-18, GWT)