You make me brave. You call me out beyond the shore into the waves. – Bethel Music
When I put Posey down for the night, I rock and sing to her. “Rock?” she asks, in her sweet little voice. She balls up her blanket and burrows into my neck. I ask what song she wants to hear. “Sunshine? Spider? Alive?” she’ll shake her head no. “Oceans?” She’ll nod yes. “Oceans” by Hillsong United has been one of our staples. “You call me out upon the waters,” the song goes. You call me out.
It’s a great song and a powerful anthem, but it’s mostly been just a song to me. Until recently.
God’s been on the move around here lately. More than I’ve felt in a long time. Buried underneath the weight of responsibilities and to-do lists and duty was my sweet Savior. Is it possible that I forgot about him while all the while I was figuring out how to communicate about Him?
Following God means always waiting on his timing. It’s not fun. We’re an impatient race, we humans. But His timing is never off.
And sometimes it just flat out surprises us.
One day I saw it all come together; I felt it in my bones; heard it in my heart. Jump. Get out of the boat. Go.
The next Monday I went to work, to a job I love—to a job that has never been just a job to me—and I put in my notice. I don’t like disappointing people, especially people I love and serve, but there was no wavering.
I never expected this. We never planned it. It wasn’t even something we much discussed. We emptied ourselves out on the road to parenthood and a two-working household was the only card in the deck for us.
Sometimes you’re so used to what you’re doing that you don’t stop to look to see if there’s another way.
Remembering those dark days when all I wanted, more than food or air or water, was to be somebody’s mama, is so humbling to me right now. I’m terrified. I’m excited. Nervous and joyful.
So here I raise my Ebenezer, so that I may never forget.
A friend and I were talking last week, after I shared my news with her, and she said sometimes God even calls us to leave something we love. Let me be a witness—it is hard. I have cried many tears. I have felt the weight of feeling like I’m abandoning my team, our mission, the hard work I’ve done the past almost-five years.
To my comrades in the trenches of working motherhood—my heart is with you. God calls us and he releases us. Listen for his heartbeat, and when you hear it, go do great things where it is that he has called you.
To my new sisters at home with littles—please pray for me. That I would honor Him, honor you, honor my children.
I’m coming home.