"Mom, can we play with the walkie talkies?"
"Mom, I need another bandaid!"
"Mom, Caleb got out... again!"
Welcome to our New Normal. Life in Wilmore, Kentucky for the Embrees thus far has consisted of many new phrases having entered into our everyday vocabulary and a new "schedule" for the day that consists of a lot of outside time and long, sleep-filled nights. As I write this blog, all three kids are still fast asleep and it's almost 8 am. Luke and I have been up since 5:45 because we have been trying to create our new normal of getting up to workout and have quiet time before the tornado we call children make their way down the steps and the day's activities begin in earnest.
It's a good new normal. It has a lot of good things. But it also has some gaps, gaps that used to be filled with certain people and certain activities that we left back in PA. I've kinda been waiting for a moment where all of the sudden it hits me (us) that we have indeed moved to Kentucky and the new normal is the real normal and life is different. I've (we've) had a few waves of grief and times of tears but I keep thinking that there's going to be this moment where we just all get hit at once with a time of deep sadness.
But the other night, God spoke to me through an impending storm; an actual impending storm not some surreal philosophical one. The clouds had begun building up around us and the "feeling" of a good storm was in the air. The kids were getting ready for bed and I snuck out on the back porch to wait for the storm to roll in. Oh, the wind and the lightning and the rolling thunder in the distance! This promised to be an epic event.
I was so anticipatory I posted on facebook, grabbed a cup of decaf and sat outside waiting for the full wrath of this tropical weather to begin in earnest. Which...it never did. Somehow all that lightning and thundering and windyness and rain skirted right around our little village and while I could hear the storm on every side of me, above me there was actually a little patch of blue sky with the colors of the setting sun visible between the clouds.
I was disappointed because I was all geared up for a good storm and that's when it hit me. I'd kinda been living my life that way down here. I've been waiting for this moment where all of the sudden I and my kids just break down in some kind of grief-stricken frenzy, a storm of sadness as we come to fully realize that we have moved... moved! But in that moment I felt as though God spoke to my heart that because of Him and His great love, because of His comfort and His peace, we don't have to be overcome by the storms in our life. We can grieve, but we can do so with hope. We can cry, but we can do so with assurance. We can be sad, but we can also have joy.
This is not to say there won't be times that I cry because I miss my friends and family (because I already have, and I know I will again) but that doesn't have to be something I am anticipating and dreading. God has gone ahead of me and provided all the resources I need for joy, peace and comfort in Him. And when my girls are sad, I can lead them to that same place of hope and restoration. Our own little patch of blue sky and beautiful sun right in the middle of life's storms. We've been blessed by brothers and sisters in Christ here who not only share our calling and vision, they also know what it is to say goodbye to loved ones and move away. Even last night as we sat in our living room sharing our testimony with another couple who shared theirs with us, I marveled at God's great love and constant faithfulness. His love always shines brighter; his joy always give us strength.
I have many friends who have gone through and are going through incredible times of testing and sadness. They are right smack dab in the middle of an epic storm. And I have seen those who have run to God and clung to His promises filled with a peace that truly is beyond comprehension. It's not just sentiment; it is reality and God's truth is unchanging.
It is now 8:10. Caleb is awake and already trying to get outside. In a few moments, my girls will sleepily make their way down the stairs and realize their bikes are soaking wet and the "What are we going to do today?" questions will start. Their new normal so far has not existed without bikes so today will be another new day to discover what Kentucky holds for us. It may lead to some lightning and thunder, a few tears and sadness, but I know that joy is above us; we need only look up!
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