Summer is officially on.
We went to the pool today. The smell of sunscreen baking into skin. Cannonballs and baby laughing and “kick kick kick!” The sun bounces off the water and I get a good deep breath in my lungs and I am so thankful for summer. So thankful for winter gone.
It was a hard winter for our family. For me. Sickness. Transitions. More sickness. More transitions. And yet more sickness. A cloud settled over, and I felt pressed right down through the floor by the weight of it. Every morning when my husband left for work, I turned around and saw these two small people who needed me. And they weren’t polite about the needing. And I wasn’t enraptured with joy about the needing. I was discontent.
Every day. Discontent.
And then, a panic attack. No breath. Get outside. Knowledge gone. Fight gone. My body took over. That’s enough, it said.
He said.
And now, the frigid months are behind me. And a new season warms my skin. But anxiety remains. And I find myself looking for the end of this season. How long will it take to climb this mountain? How many days of dizzy spells? How many weeks of short breath? It’s too long. Too wide. Too far. I can’t bear to think about how much longer this season will last.
Yesterday I sat down with a woman from my church, in hopes of finding someone to talk to about this season. And God used her. And the Holy Spirit filled our time. And Jesus met me when she spoke into the air the very lies I have been listening to.
It’s too hard.
It will take too long.
He will leave you here.
You are forgotten.
This wonderful woman reminded me that God Himself has called me into this season of hurt to do a transformative work in me. This, I already know. But to hear it, pulled up and thrown out; a sword of light through bone and marrow. At the bottom of my soul’s deepest slope, I know that God, the LORD Himself, is wrecking me. He has me in this season. He has even called me into it. And this wise woman encouraged me to stand up to the lies of the enemy with this prayer:
“Lord, don’t move me until you’ve changed me.”
Light bulb. I don’t have to move. I can know contentment in the middle of this season. Not because I feel good. But because He brought me here. It’s His time. His work. His transformation. He is the potter and I am the clay. And I don’t need to move. I don’t need to get out. I don’t need the season to end prematurely.
I trust Him. On the bad days… I trust Him. I trust that inasmuch as He has brought me here to do a good work in my spirit, He will lift me out of the trial when the seed of His work has seen fruition. And I don’t want to go without the fruition. I see the work He wants to do and I want it done. No more resistance. No more putting it off. No more white-washed tomb. I want heart surgery from the Physician and the Healer.
It’s ok, Satan, I want this season. I want it for however long it lasts. I don’t want to be moved until I am changed. I believe the One who brought me here. I believe He will give me the summer whenever the summer is due. So I will turn my face up into the rain, because it’s a summer rain. And a new heart is baking, beating. He has not left me here. It just hurts, when the light cuts into the darkness.
Those honey-lit rays that transform. Heal. Restore. That is the work of my Father.
“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.” 1 Peter 5:10-11












