The tension between the beginning of the end and the beginning of the beginning

I have that nervous anticipation a kid feels when change is around the bend. The excitement of new adventure, the anxiety of the unknown, the anticipation of what may be ready to give birth.

The butterflies of back to school shopping or packing for summer camp. The chatter of summer plans whirling, who is going where, preparing for last hugs and times of prayer for a season of goodbye.

We are at the beginning of the end of something and the beginning of new beginnings. Tension is in this spot. A holding on to what was while reaching for what is to come. But what is to come? We don’t really know so we reach with timid hands.

We are in the final days of the school year. The boys are down to single digits. We are saying goodbye for now to the school that has become a family to us for the past five years. While I’m excited about what is in store for us with homeschooling, I’m still mourning what we are leaving.

Jacob is completing his 6th grade year. He made me a gift in art and wanted to be sure I kept it safe as it is the last school art project.

We are walking through many lasts right now, but I want to feel the fullness of the lasts so I can be prepared to receive the fullness of the firsts readied for us.

The last field day is this week. The last awards day (my favorite day of the year). The last field trip. The last end of year parties. I will miss these things. I’m grateful for the moments, the memories, and the years we’ve built. A last must come eventually. Rarely are we ready when it arrives on the doorstep.

Something else stirs, and I don’t know what it is. God is doing something, and none of us really know exactly what that looks like.

Steve and I leave on a mission trip next week. Another first. One day I have a great story to tell you. It’s a little too long for a blog though. I’ve written pieces of it in my journal. Maybe one day I’ll get to share the whole story with you.

Years ago I said I’d love to go on a mission trip with Jacob the year I turned 40 and Jacob turned 13. In God-like fashion, He made that happen by moving in Jacob’s heart. As the date approached, however, God prompted us to not take Jacob. (This is the part that is an amazing story and I want to tell you every detail because it just shows how super incredible our God is, and it just can’t be told any other way than all the way)

We decided Jacob would not go. Now Steve and I are going. My blog might be quiet for a couple of weeks. As we wrap up the end of the school year, pack to leave for Haiti, and prepare for our children to be cared for by grandparents. I have quite a bit going on.

I would love your prayers for this trip. I will be speaking to the women of the community we will be working with. I’ll also have an opportunity to speak with the teenage girls. I’ve never spoken to a group who speaks another language. I have much anxiety over that. I desperately want to communicate the gospel accurately and concisely. I want to tell these women the great story of their rescue, who they are in Him when they become His daughter, and how to live a godly life as His child.

I have a lot of anxieties I wish I didn’t have. All the ones you can imagine when you travel to another country when your children aren’t with you.

I would love your prayers for our team traveling to Haiti. For every step of travel, every soul we touch, every story we hear, every heart He’s prepared. I ask for prayers of spiritual and physical protection. For logistics and details. For health and safety.

Part of me is anxious because of the unknown. Not just the external unknown, but the unknown of the change God will do in Steve and me. Part of me is trying to put up a barrier. Pray I don’t do that. That I not guard myself in anyway from what God wants to do in my heart. For what He wants to strip away, for what He wants to implant.

Last year when Jacob’s heart was broken for Haiti, he prayed for rain. He learned it had been years since they’d received rain in this one region. So he prayed, and he prayed, and he prayed. And God brought rain. And we all cried.

Your prayers for this trip and the people of Haiti matter. Your prayers move God to action on their behalf .

Thank you for your friendship to my family and for your faithfulness to pray. And thank you for your patience during a quiet season on this blog. You will continue to be in my heart and prayed for.

I’ve been posting shorter reflections and insights on Instagram. I’d love to connect with you there.

I’ll be around for maybe another post or two, then back again the end of May!

Much love,

Renee