Earlier this year, I learned how to change a car battery. On Thursday, I learned about the importance of having car insurance and a what a tie bar is.
Long story short, a seemingly harmless fender bender has turned into $3,500 worth of repairs and one very sad looking Honda Civic. And I kind of feel like, of course this is happening. Of course 2014 is ending with one more calamity. Because why not? Let's just go ahead and hammer home the point that I have exactly zero pieces of my life together. There is no pride for me to cling to, no assets, no worldly accomplishments, no boyfriend, no career. I am, truly, at the end of every rope.
I have never been more at peace.
There is a new stillness at the very bottom of my heart. It's kind of under some fear, anxiousness and a little worry, but it is there. And it is solid. It is balancing. It is a peace born from the ultimate cry of "I give up", because that's where I'm at. I give up. There is not a thing in my life I can control or fix. Not a circumstance I can steer. This is not my game, it is bigger. And, yes, it has been an absolute mess lately. But what I'm guessing, given the evidence, is that the mess is all very purposeful. It has to be. If not, then it is a cruel cosmic joke from a deity that is clearly out to to get me. But that isn't possible. Because I know my God. He has shown me His heart this year. He has taken my hand and led me through the valley. No, it didn't feel good. It was awful. But He was there. So He must still be here, and still leading. Know how I know?
The police who took my information when I wrecked didn't ticket me for having expired insurance.
The other woman's car didn't even get scratched.
(^ actual Christmas miracles from above)
Jen offered her spare room while we figured out what to do.
Dave spent hours tinkering with my car to figure out what happened.
Everyone I know in Nashville has offered me a ride somewhere.
Darcy is letting me borrow her car.
Y'all. God has gifted this lonely little girl the most authentic, caring, beautiful community. And it took a car accident of epic proportions for Him to prove just how not alone I am. As this week has progressed, and people have been there every step of the way, I've been kind of speechless. And filled with nothing but gratefulness. This is the least ideal situation to be in, with no car, no money, and no idea how to fix either problem. But evidence of God's goodness has been everywhere in the last five days. When I say, "Oh, it's all going to be fine", I'm not saying it as a last-ditch effort to make myself feel better. I say it because I have never been more sure of its truth. A part of that comes from being surrounded by community. Which I think I always knew, but didn't quite understand. All those verses about the body and building each other up and share in sorrows and joys and whatever, THAT is the safety net created very specifically by a God who treasures community and understands its vital importance. After all, He is a triune God. Three in one. He gets the community thing. And He has gifted it to us, so we can have tangible evidence of His unending mercy. It is a gift most evident when we are at our most broken and unlovable. A gift for the moments we have absolutely nothing together. That, friends, is no accident. That is exactly how it's supposed to be. And the only way to reap the benefits of such a gift is to admit when shit hits the fan and you need help. Which can feel like the most shameful, horrifying thing to do in a world of Instagram filters and liposuction. Nobody wants to admit their imperfections, or their failures.
But here's what I know: surrendering and receiving require the same posture. Arms out, palms up. Offering nothing but asking much. When we're there, the Lord is able to fill those empty hands. This week, He filled me up with community. And I could almost see Him winking, and saying, "See? They have always been there, just as I have. You are not alone, sweet one. And you never will be."
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