Drifting Home

"But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord." Genesis 6:8

I've sat on this one for a few weeks, but I decided to finally get the words out because I'm not even sure I can adequately describe my feelings anyway. 

It's going to require a bit of homework for you though. 

A friend send me this song, and to fully appreciate this blog entry, I need you to go listen to it. I'll wait.

I think the song hit me right between the eyes because the last three years have changed me in ways I'd never have understood had I not lost Kerry. 

I lived my whole life believing that I understood pain and suffering. That I fully understood God's love for me; that I would never question my faith because I could believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that God would always save me.

And I think I believed that saving me meant protecting me from gut wrenching heartbreak.

I know. I know. The Bible is full of stories of people who had to learn their lessons in the valley. But somehow I forgot all of that in the cess pool of my own valley. All those stories about Moses, Job, Esther, Ruth, etc. left my brain. I couldn't even think about God's promises because I felt he'd broken one to me. 

I also somehow thought I'd had my one happy story. That I'd met the happy quota early in life, so I didn't get more. I just had to learn how to live through the rest of the storm until I could make it to Heaven and see Kerry again.

Then I heard this song. And of all the stories from my childhood, it's Noah's that seems to speak to me the most.

When I lost Kerry, I started building my own ark. I gathered all the most important people and things, and I started weathering the storm - only I didn't bother to talk to God about it. I just started sailing.... determined to out run the rain. But no amount of running really worked. And it wasn't until I looked inward that I figured out that my method was all wrong because I misread the entire situation. (You can read about that HERE.)

And, from that moment on, things began to change for me. 

Then my friend sent me the song. And I felt such a connection to Noah. I could just picture him sending that bird out every day, using every ounce of his faith while he had all that burden and responsibility on his shoulders. Because that's how I've felt. 

I've carried the responsibility of my family's happiness around just waiting for something to make it easier. I've stared into the storm every day and waited for some sign that we'd reach land. I wanted to keep my faith and truly feel hope.  I wanted to believe that God was going to deliver me from the unending rain. And He did. In more ways than one, He has shown me that the other side of the storm is beautiful.

My heart swells when I think about how hard Noah must have worked to be sure everyone had what they needed - and how he carried the burden of safety. And the pure joy he had to feel when he got the sign he needed. Because I too felt all of those things.  

"I hope everyone forgives me because this took a little longer than I planned" hit me right in the gut. I've thought that so many times with my kids and my friends. Everyone had to be holding their breath waiting on me to get it together. I know I was. What a crazy journey. 

I know it isn't over, but I do feel as though I'm on the other side of the deluge. 

My 'bird' wasn't really one big sign, but rather an awakening. It was a realization that everything was going to be okay, and everyone was going to be okay. That I didn't have to do it alone - spiritually or physically. That I was allowed to find happiness.

In the song, he says, 

"If I ever get to heaven

I'll admit I doubted some

I'll tell them everything that happened

And ask them why it took so long

And if they find my tools and timber

That I used to build her strong

I hope the fools that do remember

How on a sea of faith and hope

We drifted home."

I just love that. 

I'm drifting home, and the rainbow is in sight. 

But I'll save that for another day.

I hope you put this song on repeat for a while, and appreciate Noah as much as I do now.

And thanks, Matt Munoz. Your song choices are epic.