Dear Anonymous,

In your search for answers, may this note be a comforting word for your soul.

I’ve taken a short break from writing, mostly because life has just been busy. The good kind of busy with much-needed travels and time spent with family and friends. It’s the kind of busy that keeps my mind occupied, thinking often about the relationships in my life.

This blog has started and stopped many times with various titles. I’m not even sure if I’ll post this one, but I figured starting and following through is the hardest part..so even if this note feels disconnected, I’ll try to finish it.

In all my travels, I felt like I was searching for something. It was a three week break where I planned to conquer my biggest questions. Instead, I tackled almost nothing. Or at least that’s how it felt. The questions remained dauntingly large and my clarity felt awfully limited.

But throughout each trip there were glimpses of things I lack words to fully explain. A glimpse is a momentary or partial view. In Vegas, a warm assurance that the Lord is piecing together a family larger than I’d imagined. In Yosemite, a promise of the Lord’s peace in a moment of miraculous quiet. In Seattle, a reminder that the Lord hears my prayers.

Each of these places were so different, but felt oddly intentional. Though I may not know the answers to all my big questions, I do not feel empty. I feel well taken care of.

When I tried to describe how I’ve been feeling and what’s been happening in and around me one time, my friend described it as ‘deep.’ As in, there is depth to what I’m learning. In every area of life I’m wading out to the deeper end, where my tippy toes barely reach the floor. It’s a scary feeling to wander out further than I’ve ever been before.

The deeper end of life challenges my ability to keep going. The illusion of control I once held now looks slightly less convincing. As that comfortable illusion fades, my heart seems to grasp desperately for something similar.

When I sat on my solitary log in the forest outside of Yosemite National Park, I didn’t really know how to be with God. I just knew how to do, how to serve, how to relate to, how to create. But to simply be in the presence of my Creator..that felt like saying “Hi, God” to a vast expanse of trees. It felt like using my small voice to speak to an unfeeling and unknowing landscape. I didn’t hear the voice of God say, ‘hello, daughter’ back.

But what I did hear was the start of a verse that read..

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” — Isaiah 54:10

So the Lord really does hear. In my mind, I didn’t know what to think. But that verse spoke too well to my heart, I couldn’t deny the way it pressed into the depth of my unbelief.

Dear Anonymous, would you dare to put yourself in that vulnerably open space today? Speak to the Lord, and let your words be heard by none other than Him.