Friends watching our waiting season to London called me brave but behind the scenes, in the privacy of my bedroom, I wasn’t brave at all. A year after that radical decision I became weak, cowardly, and a full-fledged doubter.
When I said yes to God, I thought that meant He would take care of all the details falling neatly into place with swiftness. But instead, it felt like He walked off and forgot about us. Paychecks ceased, our house wasn’t selling, and a bureaucratic process made obtaining visas difficult.
Familiar faith transformed into pleading prayers for signs to quench my endless thirst for preferred outcomes.
Over time, my faith strengthened as a job was offered, anonymous checks appeared in the mailbox; when I landed a book contract and our daughter was secure in her first year of college.
But that faith quickly vanished when our needs became greater than the amount in our bank account; when our daughter experienced a car accident in the US while we were living in London and her secure plans for the future were no longer preferred.
Join me at Velvet Ashes, a warm community of women serving overseas, for the rest of the story (that I’m still living out).