Powerless

      Saying goodbye to my kids is always a dreaded moment.  We were leaving before the morning arousals began, but they made me promise to try to wake them with a hug and kiss goodbye.  I bent over my daughter’s bed and smiled at her dreaming state and gently stroked her hair off her forehead and placed a kiss there, while in a more than gentle whisper so as to fulfill my promise of waking her, said goodbye.  Her eyes blinked slightly open and a smile crept across her face, which quickly returned back into a furrowed brow, indicating that goodbyes were no more fun to her than to me.  “We’ll be back so soon,” I replied to her concerned expression and then I moved to the next sleepy-eyed encounter.   My husband and I have wonderful opportunities to speak at different times, which are always rewarding and I consider a great blessing.  I look forward to the time away to meet new people and to hopefully bring some encouragement to them and as well, we get to see some pretty incredible places.  This weekend we were headed to Vail, CO to speak to college students there at a campus ministry retreat.  It really was one of the most beautiful places I’ve been! 

            However, Frankenstorm was also preparing a debut that would alter the promises we made to these 3 little people that we’d be home by Sunday evening.  We had such an encouraging time with the Colorado ministries.  Their faith and hospitality inspired me.  We finished the time there, keeping close tabs on the weather and airport conditions  (I think I wore down my phone screen over the corner where I continually checked the weather channel app).  We felt no concern about getting home and my son’s voice sounded assuredly more secure that we were able to be speaking about me kissing him goodnight in mere hours.  We had already checked in and were putting our bags on the luggage conveyor as the attendant there checked our tickets and quickly then told us to not have our ride leave.  All east coast flights had been cancelled.  We were not going home this night.  My heart sank.  The thought of telling my kids that though I said we would be home, we would not be.   I was powerless to change any weather pattern or airline policy (and honestly, in the split second of logical thought, I’d much rather not fly through a hurricane) and felt very far away from home.  I slumped into the car of the friends who didn’t bat an eyelash about us coming back to their home.  I was extremely grateful for their willingness to take in us vagrant wanderers, but also holding back the tears of disappointment to not see my kids.  Kevin called the kids to let them know (because I couldn’t handle it) and immediately I heard the tears.  My oldest is not the first to cry in emotional scenarios, but she broke down immediately as did my heart simultaneously.  My son was next to hear the news and had caught wind from his sister’s tears.  He wanted to talk to me and I mustered pulling it together and tried to put the pieces of my cracked voice into “strong mommy” tone.  Now, I know this must sound dramatic and perspectively speaking, things could have been enormously worse, but you can’t tell that to the inner workings of a mother’s emotional condition at moments like this.  I was depressed.  And clearly, so were my children.

            Soon enough, the power was out at home and the kids were thrilled to eat by candlelight, build forts using flashlights and carve pumpkins.   I could do nothing to be near them, but it’s at moments like these that I become very aware of how much I have to be thankful for.  In a matter of five minutes of our flight being cancelled, I had friends who were willing to drop their lives and not just begrudgingly take on the task of taking care of my, at moments very emotional kids, but eager to.  We weren’t sure when we’d get back, but we had friends who told us it would make them happy and could they please stay with our children so they could protect and encourage them.  I know I’m pretty lucky and overwhelmingly blessed to have them.  It is when I am powerless that I am most reminded of God’s power.  It’s really not up to me to decide when and where I make my next move.  Hurricanes happen.  I can plan in hope, but our lives are a mist and the sovereignty of God is just that.   Now I am sitting on a plane on my way home and I feel the anticipation of Christmas morning as I look forward to being home.   

James 4:13-15 “ Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” ¹⁴ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. ¹⁵ Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”