Today I decided to dig out the journal from 2013 and walk down memory lane. You know, since there's nothing else to do around here and all. What with the three kids and the two dogs and the laundry and the two dozen toys my son wants me to replace batteries in and the party I'm hosting TOMORROW NIGHT.
While enjoying the denial zone and reading through my little green leather journal, I ran across this entry from August of last year. (Yes, I write in a journal every day. Yes, I'm going to let you read it. Yes, you'll know the extent of my mental instability afterward. Like me, anyway, please.) I remember being in such a state of unrest and confusion. That feeling that God was calling me to something else...but what? For those of you who feel like you're on the verge....
"Went to the grocery store and talked with Jenna on the way home. For a brief moment I felt "this is how it should be." Run errands. Take care of things at home. Do normal stuff.
15 minutes later I'm reading Jen Hatmaker's blog about the trials of bringing home Ben and crying into my lunch plate.
I am so not into normal. I've dabbled in normal and found it terribly...not for me. It gives me the ibbie jibbies. I want to blow the doors off of normal.
Meanwhile, I vacillate between the urge to contact Jen Hatmaker and beg her to tell me something helpful (cause I'm sure she's got time for that) and telling myself to quit obsessing over whatever "this" is and unload the dishwasher. But I don't want to unload the dishwasher. I WANT _______?
Dare I say it? Something big. God sized. A little scary. Water Walking.
All that really matters to me, Jesus, is what you want me to do. Do we adopt? Domestic or international? Are you sure? I'm not. I feel selfish wanting more. And I feel like a glutton for eating both those pieces of chocolate.
I think we have success in the "not normal" part. Cause there ain't nothin' normal about this here foster care thing. Reading that entry reminded me how when God's got a mind to do something unusual in your life, He often gives you an appetite for it even before you know the name of the meal.
His ways continue to astound me.
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