I live on a military installation and have five immediate neighbors. This past week two moved in and one moved out. Over the course of the summer, I will lose them all. Neighbors moving in and out is pretty commonplace. And if it’s not them moving it’s me. Upheaval, chaos, confusion are par for the course. Good-byes and loneliness set in. And oh so many boxes.

It’s hard sometimes to want to engage again. I know that’s it will only be for a short time, three years at the most. But what do I lose if I don’t. Investing is always costly. I invest my time and emotions and energy. And sometimes there is no return on those investments. But most often, the returns are monumental. Friendships that span years and timezones are always so worth the effort.

Invest, my friend. It is always worth it.

It was bad. I had been home alone for most of the day wrapped in my own thoughts which escalated quickly. “What have you accomplished these last six months? No, Pam, let’s go farther back than that. What have you accomplished in the last year? Wait a minute. What have you ever finished? There are sixteen zillion projects around this house that are just screaming failure! The knitting, the scrapbooking, the design project, the furniture redo, the cookbook fiasco, don’t even begin to look in the closet! Closet… clothes… laundry… PAM!! There is a load in the washer that’s been sitting there stinking. You can’t even remember to finish the laundry!”

Then my poor husband walks in the door from work. “Honey, I have to warn you that I have been in a funk today.” And I proceed to wail into his chest until his shirt is positively soggy. He very wisely says almost nothing while I recite all the convoluted accusations that the enemy has been whispering in my ear that I have taken to heart. I eventually gather my wits about me and follow the sage advice of one of my heroes, Elisabeth Elliot, and I “just do the next thing.”

I head to the kitchen and start dinner. In the meantime, Bo goes to change. I am facing the stove and so have my back to him when he returns to the kitchen with a speaker in his hand. And I hear it…

DUM…da DA da, da DA da. da DUM… da DA da, da DA da. It is the dancy-est tune playing through that little speaker. It starts with my toes and pretty soon my whole being is dancing in the kitchen with my honey and my heart is singing and I am grinning from ear to ear. (While I am trying to keep the dinner from burning.)

I got to thinking, why did that make me so happy? None of my circumstances had changed, except the laundry finally got done. But I realized that in my sinful, sobbing, self-centered state of mind, I had lost touch with who I was and where my identity lay. I was so messed up in my thinking that I had no idea what I needed. If I had put on some music, it would have been something quite holy and probably a bit melancholy. And it would have spiraled me even farther. But my dear husband of 27 years knew exactly what I needed. So often some odd revelation happens between us and we look at each other and marvel, “Wow! After 27 years, we are still learning something about one another.” But in this moment, it so struck me that he knows me better than anyone else walking on this planet.

I realized too that there is One who knows me so much better than that. He knows all the crud that I successfully hide from the world. He knows my desires and aspirations. He knows my failure and sin. He knows my quirks. He knows my ambitions and desires. He knows when I sit and when I rise up. He discerns my thoughts from afar. He searches out my path and my lying down. He is acquainted with all my ways. He knows what I am going to say before a word is even on my tongue. (Psalm 139) And yet, even so, despite knowing all the muck inside me, He calls me precious. (Isaiah 43) And He rejoices over me with singing (Zephaniah 3)

So, knowing the truth, we dance in the kitchen.

Photo by Laura Fuhrman on Unsplash

Phoebe…There are times when I am trying to teach her something new, and I will put a treat in my hand. Whew! Then I have her attention. She tries so hard to figure out what I am trying to get her to do. First she sits, then lies down, then does a high five, then rolls over, all the while looking at the hand that is holding the treat. After going through all the things she thinks I want her to do, she finally looks at me, at my face, at my eyes and I am finally able to communicate what it is that I want her to do. And, oh, is she eager to please. Once I do communicate the objective, she is quick to obey.

The way she looks at me reminds me of the way I want to look to God. Psalm 123:2 says, “Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us.” I want to eagerly look to God knowing that He wants to communicate to me all that I need to know. I want to seek Him first, but I get so distracted looking for all the blessings. I so often don’t realize that the biggest blessing of all is knowing Christ.

Lord, like Phoebe, so often I run through all the things that I think you want me to do. I get so busy looking at the treat that I want so badly, that I forget to look to you, I forget to see things through your eyes. Help to me focus on you, on what you have commanded in your word, help me to be quick to obey. Lord, help me see You.

Heidelberg Catechism Question 1:

1. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
   • That I am not my own, but belong body and soul, in life and in death to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

Phoebe looks at me sometimes and I just want to eat her up. She is so adorable and has the longest eyelashes you have ever seen. Seriously… I have to trim them or they get too long. But to get to my point, she looks at me like her life depended on it. And in reality, it does. She is completely dependent on me for her food, cleanliness, safety, security, environment, everything. There is nothing that she needs that she can do for herself. She trusts me to care for her and to be the provider of all good things.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t trust me to protect her. She thinks it is her job to alert me to every potential evil… like cardboard boxes, and mailmen, and the wind rattling the screen door, and, heaven forbid, the occasional visitor. She barks and barks and barks. Why doesn’t she trust me? I don’t know. I’m still figuring that one out, but it has made me think about my own trust issues. There is One upon whom I am completely dependent, for my food, cleanliness, safety, security, environment and everything else. He is Abba, Sovereign Creator and Sustainer. All good things come from Him. He knows what is best for me and for those that I care about. Why do I get stressed and frustrated and worked up into a frenzy because of the circumstances around me?

Father God, the better I know you, the more I will trust your protection and guidance. Help me not act out of fear and confusion but to settle into a place of trust and wisdom.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust.” Psalm 56: 3-4