“Where could I go from Your Spirit? Or where could I flee from Your presence? If I ascend up into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol (the place of the dead), behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, Even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me and the night shall be [the only] light about me, Even the darkness hides nothing from You, but the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.” Psalm 139:7-12

I tap out these words while I am sitting in my hotel room, missing workshop sessions and lunch. I almost didn’t make it here. I almost didn’t come to this here, blogging conference called Allume.

Four days leading to, and until the day before I needed to leave, husband laid on the couch barely able to walk or talk, with feverish chills, aching muscles, and so very sick with the a bad stomach flu. And my only son’s upper lip blackened with 2nd degree burns sustained from a marshmallow on fire that stuck to it, searing his tender skin. And my own mama hurts, her aching bones failing her. And not yet recovered from the week before I even left to go on my first blogging missions trip this month — I was so fatigued. Then being in Guatemala and blogging about rescuing dying babies and mamas much wearier than I. And the 2 weeks since my return, I still have only few words, for the words turn watery before they can be formed.

Heavy, pressed in on all sides, all parts of me — emotional, spiritual, physical, relational. The weeks leading to it, wandering and wondering in the dark. Hearing voices that stir those insecurities and fears that I thought had gone away, yet had only gone down into a deep sleep, awakened at the opportunity to lure me into hiding.

So in preparing and readying myself to go, imagining meeting blogging friends, included fighting feelings of  being in middle school again. Petrified at the thought of seeing everyone in real life and them not liking what they see, when they see me. Fearing being left on the outside of the circle — echoes from junior-high taunting still haunting.

And the fight. Why is there be a fight, I wonder? Why is the fight relentless?

I thought about going dark here. Closing it down — this site, this blog, the accounts. And I’ve offered it to God. “Take it, Lord. Are you sure you don’t want it back? I’m the unblogger blogger, not even so sure of why I am here.”

I then realize, this dialogue is a monologue, because He’s just listening. Not talking back. Not receiving it. He’s not taking the blog back. He’s not saying I’m done, though I feel done. Then He has heard enough, and hushes this kind of talk, gently with this.

“Any one who puts His hand to the plow and looks back,

is not worthy of the Kingdom.” Luke 9:62

And I breath in deeply, and I settle in my heart — this is Kingdom labor. I will not look back. I will not run and hide. I will stay. I will forge ahead. I do not yet see where I am going. Not sure I ever will, or will ever need to, except with eyes of faith. I will walk, even not knowing, but seeking to know the One who knows my end from the beginning.

As I’m settled in the seat of the airplane taking me to Pennsylvania for the conference, I look out the window and snap this photo. As I do He speaks quiet comfort to my heart, even in the darkness, He is there. 

And I realize I’ve been wrestling. In all of my surrendering this place to Him, it really wasn’t surrender. I was contending with Him, not yielded to His will for me.

I began here a year ago, not even know what a blog was. And even at this blogging conference, I’m not sure I know yet. But I realized, I need this blog, more than it needs me. I need the readers and my blogger friends. This community of readers and bloggers are a gift. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for so many faithful pray-ers, encouragers and grace-filled, God-lovers, loving on me. God loves me through them — through you. Thanks are not enough.

I also know this. This blog needs to be what God desires. If this is what He wants from me at this season, somehow fitting into the big picture plan of the life He’s already laid out for me, then I want His fingerprints all over it. I cannot settle for anything less than His heartbeating from this place, His breath breathing life into into the space of this world wide web, filling in with His Presence — the empty expanse.

Lord, for though it feels that it is without shape and form, and I’ve been in deep darkness, I sense Your Spirit hovering over this watery abyss, flooded now by my weeping. And you say, “Let there be Light. Let it shine. Be a light-bearer in the dark world.” (Genesis 1:2-3 Matthew 15:16)

So let this place be where others may find the Way, the Truth and the Life.

May it never deplete my family nor I.

May it never pull me away from my first call as wife and mama.

May it only ever point the way to the cross.

May it be a beacon of light for those who have lost their way to You.

May I be a faithful servant to the precious readers you have entrusted,

no matter if they read quiet, and no matter how long they may stay.

And as they grace these pages may it be Your grace they find.

And no matter where You may take me from here,

no matter what I may find along the way, and I know there

will be many distractions vying for my turn to the left or the right,

may my most passionate pursuit always be of You.

And I feast on You Lord. And Father, I echo the Words of the Way.

“My food is to do the will of Him who sent me. And to finish His work.” John 4:34

And I surrender again. I surrender it all. May Your will be done, and not mine.

And, oh Lord, I follow You in the same way, as you prayed to the Father,

May I glorify you on earth
By completing down to the last detail
What you assigned me to do.

John 17:4 MSG