The Best Is Yet to Come

And thus begins the deconstruction of my hardened heart,

                    
              as others' pain becomes more important than my own;
             
                                                        as I stop worrying about being right or wrong and just be;

                       as I realize I am as fallible as the next;

as actions become more important than words;

                                         as I learn forgiveness is a process, not immediate;

                 as I learn to love people for who they are and not who I want them to be;

                              as I learn to be content with what I have when I have it;


And while each hardened piece is chipped and melted away, the pang of regret, change, and reality sometimes steals my breath and leaves me trembling. Exposed. Jaded. Disbelieving.


And then a look,

                              a word,

                  an embrace,

        reminds me why I am here

and why I must continue this journey.


Because someone

                 somewhere

                         at some point

will be in these same shoes,

                   And at that time I will be able to say, I've been there too.

                                             Don't give up, the best is yet to come.

                      


                                                     

Less Like Scars

Over the past couple of months, I've slowly been getting to know my neighbors and the ministry they are a part of. They're just a bunch of young people living side by side with their neighbors and loving them in their imperfectness. Tonight I went to the girls' Bible study and met a bunch of the women leaders and neighborhood girls. My old self would have been petrified at the thought of purposefully walking into a room of strangers, but I found myself peacefully excited.

After the Bible study, a bunch of us went to Chick-fil-A for dinner. We sat for over an hour just talking about life, the kids, work, etc. And for the first time in a really, really long time, I felt like I had something in common with them; not just my degree or my religious or political beliefs, but a deep commonality that I haven't experienced in a very long time, if ever. I've met kindred spirits here and there, and I wouldn't necessarily say these girls are kindred spirits. But they're of one heart and one mind when it comes to our Savior and to these kids and our neighborhood... and I share it with them.

There's a song I sang at the one year anniversary of my best friend's death 10 years ago. I found myself listening to it again a few days ago, and I identify with the words now more than I did then. Although I feel like more of life is broken now than it was 10 years ago, I am beginning to find beauty in how He is putting it back together.

Take a minute to watch the video, listen to the lyrics:

"Less Like Scars"

by Sara Groves

 



It's been a hard year, but I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard, healing changes are subtle
But every day it's

Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

And I feel you here and you're picking up the pieces

Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like character

Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel you here, and you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come

And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you

And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able

And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

And more like character