Speaking into the quiet

So it has been a while. A long, quiet while. A while filled with celebration and change and also all the regular. The summer regular. It was by no means the summer I expected, but it was a summer that brought much and took away the same. Looking back there seems to be a sort of balance in this. Of which I find myself full of gratitude for. 

A few happenings this summer:

Masters program was completed—gone. A job in a district that I loved was left behind—gone. A new job was ushered in—gift. New babies were born and celebrated—gift. Community was strengthened and leaned into—gift. Life (some of it quite hard) was lived—normal. Breaths were breathed—hallelujah.

But the words...they have not come. The quiet has held strong in the summer months. Every time I thought I could sit down and spill all the words and all the sentences of life onto the keyboard, even if just for myself, something brought pause. The words weren’t ready. They weren’t mine to tell. I didn’t quite have a hold on what it is they wanted needed to say. To expose. What the heck the Lord was doing with my words. With my life. Why so much good was stripped and the seemingly new “good” was just so hard. So different. So uncomfortable.

And so I have just been waiting. Contemplating. Allowing the quiet to reign. And quite honestly it has allowed me to see that words are not always necessary. They are not always for me to spew just because they are there. That pause is good. Even necessary. It widens the space for Him to speak into. To mold. And change. And make Himself known.

But I also do not want to forget the real life that was lived over these summer months. To keep them safely penned for all their sweetness and all their pain. So I believe the words are here. At least enough for memory’s sake. 

June

Was a stinking whirlwind of a month. Goodbyes were spoken to sweet students and co-workers, attempts at wishing them all happy summers and pleas for them to visit next year or keep in touch over the summer. I am always a tad bit mushy when it comes to the end of the school year. It is filled with the promise of summer and fun and time, but it is also so very bitter because it is really an ending. A period at the end of a year’s sentence. And this year I had the inkling that it might be my last at my long-time campus and home. And honestly that was a bit brutal. My sweet Worley crew has loved me so well over the past 7 years. They have taught me what it really looks like to be an educator. They offered me grace and extended confidence in who I am as a teacher. And there is just no word of gratitude big enough for that kind of support. So making my exit on the last day of school, while filled with hope and dreams, was also quite sad. And desperate. To remember all the good and all the people and all the days. Just in case.

And in the same breath as goodbyes, I was meeting with and selling myself and all my dreams for librarianship to a whole slew of new faces. Which is just so not my thing. It is strange and uncomfortable. And necessary. So, I traveled all across the metroplex trying to find the right fit. The right spot. The right home for this next season. And it was hard. And it was so stressful. And it was a bit heartbreaking. Not because the Lord was not faithful. And not because He did not allow for much in the way of opportunity. But because I just HATE closing a chapter. Hate to add the punctuation marks.

And in the same moments as I was interviewing my guts out, I was also taking the biggest exam to date in my post-graduate work. And while my backbone (Steve) reminded me daily hourly by the minute that I had it in the bag. That these three research papers would work themselves through and that there was no need to stress. Stress I did. I did it really well. Because it was everything at once. Everything. No control. No answers. No guarantees. Just change. And hope. And stress.

And looking back, I wish I had handled it so very differently. I wish I had not doubted or spun out or missed the joy in opportunity. But that is just my truth. I did all of those things. For weeks I missed it.

But in the end, despite myself, I passed my test (which meant graduation!). I was offered a great job in a great district with great people doing what I have been working hard to do. I was reminded that all the stressing and worrying and attempting to force answers was for not and will always be just that. I was yet again reminded of the strength of my husband and how much he is able to believe in me when I just can’t muster the strength to do it for myself. And I once again found the strength of the Lord to be far greater and more reliable than my weak attempts at keeping things straight. And sorted.

June was a dang whirlwind.

July

And then July came like a big ol’ breath of freedom.

Most unknowns had been wrapped up and it was time for a bit of summer. We celebrated 4^th of July and a big birthday with friends and family. Steve planned a surprise trip to San Francisco for our 6^th anniversary (a trip I thought would never be) and we did all the things I had been dreaming of doing there.

It was truly an act of service and love on Steve’s part. Not that he didn’t enjoy the trip as much as I did, but he made sure that anything I had been dreaming to do for the past however many years was done and done to the fullest. And isn’t that just like that guy. I forget so often of the gift that the Lord gave me in marriage. He really did provide a depth of love and generosity and help and support and grace that could just never be deserved. And while I am fully aware that neither Steve nor I are perfect or without fault in the everyday, as I sit here remembering the goodness that my husband brings to this marriage, it is so clear that the Lord uses my marriage to preach the Gospel to my weary and stubborn heart. He has and will continue to use this marriage thing. This partnership in Him to make room for Truth. It’s just a matter of stepping back and knowing Him enough to notice.

July was dang good.

August

August was work and change and boldness.

I reported to my new job for new teacher training on August 3^rd and was immediately aware that this thing...this new thing was in all regards just that: new. The job. The district. The expectations. The procedures. The hours. The people. All of it. Just really really new.

And my confidence has wavered since August. I notice it every day because this new place and post is not coming naturally. And that is all too humbling for a girl who has felt pretty confident in who she is as an educator. Who felt ready for the change and all it meant.

Humility.

It seems to always be a byproduct of change. At least in my experience. It’s a whispered reminder that I am not it. I am not the one who provides the giftings or grace or trustworthiness or plan to be confident in. I am just me. Small and weak. Yet, oh so strong in the Lord.

So August (and every Fall month since) was (has been) all about being uncomfortable and unknown. Lowly and small. And each time my rebellion has ceased and space and quiet has been allowed, there has been a whisper.

“Trust me. I am enough. I know what I am doing. Trust me.”

So, August was hard. And humbling. Therefore, needed. And good.

Oh, and we found out this really fun and surprising and hugely humbling thing.

And again we have been laid out. Humbled by our smallness to walk into so much change and new and responsibility and joy. Attempting to stay our fears, especially mine, that this would not work out. That heartbreak is just around the corner. Because I have seen that hurt. It is not uncommon and it is crushing every time. I have seen the faces of friends who have felt that devastation. Who have struggled to reconcile that heartbreak with the faithfulness and goodness of God. I have hugged and prayed and loved and cried for others who have been there. And I am still sitting in that. The humility that I am not in control. And that I have no idea what I am doing or how this will end.

But the Lord is good. He is greater. Than my fears. Than any devastation that could come. Than all of the unknown and hard.

And so with such sweet joy, I am allowing myself to rest in where we are today. Praising Him for the opportunities this sweet baby has already brought. To grow in Him and marriage and family and community. To push past barriers of fear. And to simply rest. And to trust that in all things He is good. He is faithful and worthy to be trusted. Even with our little one.

So the Crumbys are celebrating. And awaiting a very sweet day in April when our family will become just a bit bigger. Hallelujah!!