E.L. Doctorow once said that “writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you’ll pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice about writing, or life, I have ever heard.”
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
I agree with Anne. This is spot-on life advice. I can easily look back on my life and see where God gave me a meager two or three feet of visibility for what was ahead. Of course, in my desire for control, I begged and pleaded for more. I wanted to know exactly where I was headed and what I would “pass along the way.”
In His graciousness and tender mercy, He shielded the view ahead. With the mountains looming in the distance, He provided cloud cover to shroud the massive peaks. If I had known how steep the climb, I might have turned around or simply said “no.” I would have pointed to my inability, my weakness, my lack of training. I may have lamented my ill-equipped supplies for the journey.
Instead, I pressed on.
As long as my gaze was fixed on Him, my feet kept moving forward.
Once again, I am unsure of what lies around the next bend. I know that I’m currently in a season of abundance and rest. I trust that our good Father provides these seasons to allow for much-needed respite after an arduous journey. Our mountain-scaling adoption process was exhausting emotionally, physically and spiritually. We unknowingly stepped onto an intense battlefield when we said “yes” to our little brown-eyed girl. We were up against a ferocious enemy who relentlessly attacked. After she came home, I dealt with a form of PTSD. Just now, after seventeen months, I can breathe again. I can find rest and peace again. The panic attacks and anxiety that often gripped in the dark of the night have diminished. The battle scars have faded.
We are walking a new path. One revealed in small increments, two or three feet ahead. Our work building Feed Their Tummies was set into motion because of our obedience to a call to care for the vulnerable. We now find ourselves on the brink of something new, something potentially greater than we ever anticipated. I don’t know how any of this will turn out. I only know that God called us here. And, He is good and He is faithful. He is full of mercy and compassion. He defends justice and provides restoration where human eyes only see brokenness and barren lands.
As I step forward and watch the path slowly illuminate before me, I remain in hopeful expectation of what is to come. God is doing a new thing in a country very dear to our hearts. Dave and I are humbled by His entrusting us to play a small role in this story of Hope. I can’t wait to share what is revealed along the way.