The Last Five Years

The Last Five Years

Five years ago today, I boarded a plane to Columbia, Missouri. It was a trip I had taken countless times before… but this time it was permanent. We were officially leaving our only home we had known as a married couple and now small family, and were starting over, back in my hometown. In the middle of COVID-19. With an 8-month-old strapped to my chest. Kel would follow a few days later with all of our belongings, animals, and plants (bless him).  

We had asked my parents for a favor, “Can we live with you? It’ll only be two years…” Our plan was for Kel to get his real estate license and we knew we wouldn’t be eligible for a loan for 2 years if he was self-employed. 

But, five years later, we are still living with my parents. With a 5 year, 8 month old kid. (bless them). 

When we left our home, our jobs, our community in New Mexico… we couldn’t imagine where the future would take us. But, we felt okay about it. Sad, absolutely. But okay. We had this deep sense of knowing (and actually believing) that God had all of it. He had us.  We wouldn’t have probably chosen it for ourselves, but we knew that God was moving us to something new, something different. 

I remember that first year as an instant unemployed mom, trying to find purpose in my day-to-day existence. Life was slower, no doubt. Instead of emails to answer and people to manage, I was keeping a toddling, rambunctious, babbling kid alive. And I was both happy and perplexed. “Is this what you have for me, Lord?” 

I asked the question a lot. Probably far more dissatisfied with my situation than I should have been. I had, after all, been afforded a gift far more valuable than money. I had been given time. Time to stop, to process, to implement… time to consider priorities and how I was living out the values I proclaimed to believe. Hillsong’s “New Wine” spoke to me a lot during that new season in my life: 

In the crushing

In the pressing

You are making

New wine

In the soil, I

Now surrender

You are breaking

New ground

So I yield to You and to Your careful hand

When I trust You I don’t need to understand

Make me Your vessel

Make me an offering

Make me whatever You want me to be

I came here with nothing

But all You have given me

Jesus, bring new wine out of me

It was a prayer I prayed often. One of constant surrender. I didn’t fully know how God would use the gifts and experiences he had given me to bring about new wine, but I was praying desperately for contentedness in my circumstances, whether I remained an instant-stay-at-home mom or went back to work. This was what I wanted – for Him to use me. 

Leaving New Mexico had hurt. It had been hard. Crushing. I felt like I had moved back to Missouri with nothing except what God had given me – a truly incredible family – and I was pleading that He would bring new wine out of me. My identity had been far more wrapped up in my camp life than I had ever wanted to admit. 

A few weeks ago, we sang this very same Hillsong song at church. On my left stood my family. To my right, a group of women in a discipleship group I had been leading over the last year. New wine. My eyes welled with tears at God’s faithfulness over the last 5 years. His provision was evident to me that morning. It’s been so evident in so many ways since we moved. 

I marvel often at what’s transpired over the last 5 years. For out of heartache, He has brought a wholeness, purpose, and blessing. A new business, investing in low-income affordable housing solutions for those steps away from homelessness. A growing non-profit that serves and empowers refugees from all over the world. A family that has needed to rely on one another through various challenges. A church where discipleship is flourishing and we get to utilize previous experiences and knowledge to help fan the flames. A multi-generational home where we want to continue living together for the foreseeable future because of how sweet it is — a home where Kel and Mumsy make sure there is coffee each morning and Pops and I make sure the grass is mowed. A town where Kathryn has “sister/brother”-cousins minutes away, even though she’s an only child.

God is at work. He has been at work. Sometimes it just takes us giving a minute to pause and to reflect about how the millions of pieces are fitting together and paving a way for Him to be known, exalted, and glorified. 

You may be in the middle of the heartache right now. In the middle of the uncertainty, the unknown, the fear of what’s next. Press in… deeper. To knowing Him, loving Him, serving Him – with everything you have, everything you are. Bring Him your tears, your worries, your pain. He can handle it. One step at a time, one day at a time.

And eventually, friend, you too will look back. Maybe 5 years. Maybe 10. Maybe 30. Maybe more. And you will marvel at all He has done. 

He is making new wine.

Through us and in us. 

Hang on to Jesus. 

For He continues to be the only one who will sustain us.