O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there;if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me,your right hand will hold me fast.
My son and I took a drive to Greenville, NC this weekend. This is where the past 11 years of my life have taken place. It was hard. The tears started flowing as we passed the simple signs taken for granted in the past yet now seem so sweet.
It was here, my old neighborhood, that the tears turned to raw hurt. As we turned the corner past the stop sign, I see the neighbor's house who first welcomed us to our new home. Not only that, but they became dear friends and encouraged us through each season of our life. Their two little boys (now they have a sweet girly girl!!) also had names from the Bible, so we lovingly deemed our corner of the world as an Old Testament playground.
I see the house beside mine that has triplet boys and a superwoman for a mom. We've shared glasses of wine and our hearts. I can relate to her through my season now, and she knows this and stands with me.
I glance at my house as we drive past. I can't look long, for the memories are practically parading in the driveway, dancing on the porch, and peeking through the windows. Jonah's first home. It is almost too much.
As I come to the next corner, I think of another neighbor who is known as the crafty partner-in-crime. We met at this corner in the whispers of dawn, frigid air freezing our lungs, wondering what in the world possessed us to walk the neighborhood at this hour. We used to run, but we turned this into prayer walks and sharing that only a woman could undertand.
I finally reach the house of my old roomate, and by this time, I'm barely able to see the driveway. It was an ugly crying, with snot everywhere. And it was quiet, because little one was in the backseat, unaware that his mom was swimming through tears down memory's river.
My dear friend from college days so long ago, grabs everything from my hands except my child and helps me in the house. Seeing a familiar face caused more tears, yet this was not painful.
This was home, although it wasn't my home. It was the beginning of rest that I so desperately needed.
We live by schedules and try to be everything to everyone, yet fail miserably. We put up a face that says all is well, while inside we are crumbling.
Sometimes, you have to face what you don't want to in order to heal.
I had to acknowledge that geographically, my front door no longer led to dear friends...that my home was filled with someone else's children and memories...that the corners of friendship were now long highway paths.
As I drove back to Greensboro, our new home, I realized there was no place too far away for God. I know this, and we've heard it a million times. But, when you live it, you finally really get it.
He is here, right where I am. I can't escape Him, nor do I want to. I won't lie, sometimes I have attempted to run away, but He is around every corner and in every sunrise.
Knowing this, I can rest. I can BE. Be right where I am, and know this is ok.
Even though the home down that east highway holds memories, the most important thing is still with me. And that is His presence.
Take time to Rest this weekend!