Ready to Jump

I feel ready. Ready to jump in with both feet. The only trouble is, I don't know what it is I'm ready for. It's as if everything has been stripped from me. I have nothing left and so I am willing, oh so willing to go and do and be for Him. The worst has happened and we have survived. He has prepared, is preparing my heart for something. Something big, I can feel it. 

I feel uncomfortable in my life, but it's different than it used to be. I used to be uncomfortable because I wanted normal. I craved normal like a drowning man craves air. I wanted a house and three kids (OK, I still want a mess of kids, maybe more like five though. Oh... don't tell Pat though...), a dog, a husband with a normal 8-5 job. I even wanted to do the dishes and clean the bathroom as long as it was in four walls I called my very own home. 

Now I'm uncomfortable with the idea of not doing something totally crazy. I mean like really crazy. Like start-a-non-profit-for-people-in-Uganda-with-AIDS, become-missionaries-in-cannibal-territory, start-a-sky-diving-academy-for-seniors crazy. It is both a thrilling and infuriating place to be. I'm so excited to see how God will use us, but at the same time, I'm ready to start. Like right now. "Drop me in Lord, I'm yours!" You know the phrase "all dressed up and nowhere to go?" That's me. All fired up and no one to love on. 

You see I came to this conclusion a few weeks ago. None of it matters. Truly. None of the reasons I was coming up with for God taking John and Evangeline to Him made any sense. It was an infuriating and extremely dark place to be.

And then it came to me. The only reason for losing them I can even begin to comprehend is to bring someone else closer to Him. That's it. Only that makes any kind of sense to me. I can come to terms with, even rejoice in their lives, short though they were, if He uses them to draw someone into His loving arms. And I am so ready to make those two beautiful lives count for something. Use me Lord to tell their story, share Your love, bring someone home.

Ichingly yours,
Jillian