Last Thursday was a difficult day - at least parts of it. For the first time in a long while, I accompanied B to the east side of town to the technical college for his class that night. Once I dropped him off, I went onto pick up my cousin and hang out with her for a bit while her mom hosted a "ladies' night" get-together at their house. On the way over to the east side, B and I had a really great conversation - skipping around from topic to topic, what we normally do during long car rides. Eventually, however, the conversation switched gears, as we started to talk about the future.
In recent years, I've always approached the future with hesitance. For two straight years, B and I have endured a spring where the future was totally unknown. The never-ending sea of graduate school applications always leaves guessing and speculating about where exactly we're going to end up, come August. We lived through this last spring - planning a wedding, rejoicing in engagement, but not knowing where we were going to be ultimately. One of my favorite phrases last year, when folks would ask about our plans, was, "well, we know we're going to be married in this church at this time on August 22nd, but we're not sure where we'll be on August 23rd." Ideas and dreams and hopes about the future swirled in our minds - would we be able to honeymoon? Would our honeymoon consist of traveling cross-country in a Uhaul, off to law school? Would we have to move before the wedding for law school and come back to Madison to get married, and where would we both live separately in the interim before the wedding? The sheer uncertainty of it all was enough to throw me into a tizzy on more than one occasion.
And the irony is, that a year after our first round of law school applications and not knowing where we would end up, here we are again, nearly eight months into our marriage, and completely unaware of what the future holds yet again. There's no denying that God really does have a sense of humor. This time around, I know there's been a lot more anxiety for the both of us - to us, it seems like there are so many more variables spinning around this decision. Will law school happen for B? What school, if any, will accept him? Where will it be? If law school doesn't happen, do we really want to go through another round of applications next spring? Where does starting a family fit in? The questions seem endless for us - probably more so for a high-strung person like me, but I know that B has been struggling with the uncertainty too.
Anyway, back to the drive to the east side. The conversation switched gears and all of a sudden out of my mouth spilled all of the uncertainty, worry, and doubt about the future. All of those questions that we've asked of each other, and of God, spilled out into yet another conversation between us. And as always, B was gentle and encouraging, reassuring me that we will know in time where we are meant to be. And I, as always, in my weakness, was doubtful and uncertain and worried. All of my worry was suffocating, quieting me for the rest of the trip to the tech school. I tried to shake it off as I said goodbye to B, but the trip to my cousin's was one of unease, and I tried my darnedest to pray in that moment, even in simply a whisper to my Father God, asking Him to keep our situation close to His heart.
The night passed, B's class ended, I took my cousin to Culver's and the library and we had a wonderful time out on the town. B and I headed back to the west side and prayed the rosary on our trip back to our apartment. We piled into our place, dropping our bags and belongings, and I logged onto the computer for a minute before our weekly TV show came on. Eventually, we logged onto Brad's e-mail so he could check for any messages.....
and there it was.
The simplest, yet most wonderful reminder of God's hand in all of this.
An e-mail from the admissions committee of Brad's top choice, informing him of his spot on a waiting list for admission.
It was as if the voice of my Father God had whispered to me, His silly little girl: "All of your worry and your doubt of my faithfulness, and look! In the midst of it, I am still here. And I still love the both of you."
It was littlest, but most needed glimpse of His work in our lives. Even in our weakness and in our failures, especially our failures to return to Him faithfully in prayer and sacrifice, He is still present in our lives. In spite of our broken humanity, God still works in the situations that, to Brad and I, seem most important in our lives at this moment. He is still there; He is still faithful. The e-mail wasn't an invitation to admission, but it also wasn't a rejection of admission. For me, that 200-word e-mail was a profound reminder that God is still in the midst of things, even when we doubt He's even there.
B might get into that law school in the fall, and he might not. Yet now, more than ever, my husband and I remain convinced at how much God is working in our lives, even when we fail to notice it, and fail even more so to give Him the glory, honor, and praise He most assuredly deserves.
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