I turned 34 yesterday. And in thinking over the road ahead of 34, I spent a lot of time reviewing the journey of 33. It is believed Jesus was 33 when He went to the cross and rose again, and in many ways my life was resurrected at 33 after finally understanding it is in the place of dying to myself where life lays in wait. I had an awakening, and it changed me. Some would even testify my very physical appearance was altered. Light can do that- change an image, alter a landscape, ignite a life. And it is a gift. A gift of wonder. I lived many a 33 days in wonder, my eyes having been opened to a deeper reality than I had ever known. In awe of a richer life, one I had heard others speak of, but never understood that I didn’t understand- that is, until I understood. The road down 33 wasn’t always a smooth ride, often times harder than any of those previously traveled 20-something paths, but it was enveloped in purpose and peace spurring me on toward 34. The wonder, always around.
Then, one month ago Africa. Lulu. Us. God. Wonder.
Today, I sit here embarking on 34, and while wonder still permeates – the face of it has changed, for now. I seem to have lost the marveling wonder over the tiniest bits of beauty around me, as I wait in this house wondering when the phone will ring with word of our baby girl. I sit here with tears staining my shirt, full of wonder of how much longer the fight and still, why no word? I wonder how she is, I wonder what to tell our friends, our children, I wonder why I am so angry. And maybe most of all, I am full of wonder over how quietly and quickly the Wonder of my 33 could be overrun by this obnoxious doubt, this crippling unbelief. And I wonder…how do I get back to the Wonder?
How can a season and a path be so completely right and ordained, while simultaneously being so wrong and off-track? How do I celebrate birthdays and school recitals and Rudolph, while praying and fighting endlessly for the one who isn’t yet here for the celebration? From where I stand right now, I can’t see beyond my hand in front of my face so I do all I know to do and keep putting one foot in front of the other and calling for help. God, I believe. Please, help my unbelief. Please, help me see. Please. Bring me back home to the Wonder.
Thanks for loving us through this, even on the foggy days.