Ground Zero - Austin

I am sitting in a small bed in a room on the third floor of a hotel that is filled to capacity with residents that have fled a hurricane.

I reread that sentence to myself to bring rationality to what will follow.  

I am not fleeing my home.  I did not leave behind belongings and sentimental trinkets that I might permanently lose.  

I'm still crying anyway. I have waited until it is quiet and I am as alone as possible to empty my heart. 

Do you read great and wild stories of fantasy and intrigue? Mystery and heroes and death? Does it stir your soul? Can you see that the hero is always detached? There is a burden he bears that sets him apart from his counterparts.  He can't join in with the group though he would like to do so. He feels deep urgency, great responsibility, though his heart would rise, weight pushes down.

I feel a bit like my hero friend. Weights are tied to my fingers and my feet, and yet I push forward. I walk with my kids through a time of great upheaval, clinging to this verse..

And he said, "My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest." Exodus 33:14

This life is so difficult, but I can hear Jesus whisper that the journey will always end in joy. It will ALWAYS end in joy. By that I mean heaven, of course. Every step of this life can be covered in pain and anguish, but death gives way to victory one day, and the Sun of Righteousness will rise and every tear will be forgotten.  

It's okay to cry.  It's okay to acknowledge pain. In fact, it's best to get it out there.  Talking with my son tonight, I shared some of that.  I thanked him for coming with me today and walking through houses for hours. He asked, "Why does it matter?" I said, "It matters because I am having a hard time with this. I don't like leaving my home. It's why I cried when I looked out the window and first saw the 'For Sale' sign in our yard. I'm losing my home. I can go through houses innumerable, but it only matters if the people who make it a home are there supporting and loving me, and helping me choose.  It doesn't matter if I spend 100,000 or 500,000 it will still be just a house. Love makes it a home." We had a little moment - I hope it helps him too because I know that he is struggling. 

I feel detached because I want to appear strong, but all of my insides are churning and as I listen to all the noise outside at 1230AM, panic rises in my throat and quiet sobs escape as I realize I am once again sitting at ground zero with no one to love me. It's too hard to start over.  It's too hard. 

I reread Exodus 33.  I think of the houses I walked through today and try to imagine my possessions inside.  I try to imagine cooking Thanksgiving dinner in that kitchen, or watching my son walk down those steps with his cap and gown.  The last phase is here. The one that brings my sons to adulthood.  I am one of the heros in this story - I must remain detached to complete the task that began one October morning in 2005.  I will not give in to the fear that would take me in this moment.  I lay down for a moment and stand back up to find my place. 

It's too hard to start over; it's a true statement. There is much that is hard in this life and knowing pain bears fruit in our character. I am so gentle with those far from home as I will forever be. Just today I told Ryan it will be most unusual for me to be buried somewhere because you will all move on from that place and no one will be there to visit me.  While there is no true resting place for my body, my soul all the more longs for heaven and the joy and rest that will be.  Better is one day with Jesus than thousands elsewhere. 

My tears are drying and I prepare to go to sleep so I can walk through more house trying to determine a future course. I feel like I'm not old enough to be doing this. To be preparing to launch my kids in a few years, to be trying to find the perfect high school and house that will be their final home with me.  It is so overwhelming. Am I making the right choices? Every hero has doubts. Every hero wonders what was the reason they should be selected. Not always does the hero learn why, but every good author that has selected the hero weaves a tale worth reading. 

I know I am merely on a journey and my tasks are to raise two children to love Jesus, and to show others who Jesus is. Everything that pops up, between the newly introduced fire ants (those hurt!) and the tears on my pillow add depth.  My fear has been calmed and replaced with the assurance that He makes me worthy of being read.  

Ground zero or not. Someone new is getting ready to pull up a chair, pour a glass of sweet tea, open my book to page one and read. All because God chose me to be an unlikely, detached hero, with a penchant for starting over.