May 20, 2024

Last week, I spent four magical days in the mysterious and sleepy southern town of Savannah. She's beautiful this time of year, when everything is green and ivy-laden and the cool salty breeze ruffles her leaves. I felt myself taken aback in the most sincerest of ways with every square and statue that I visited. 

So much history and so much beauty. 

Then, I came home to my little piece of nature-filled heaven and life went right back to "normal."  I had just recently started the meticulous process of probate about two weeks before, so I jumped right back into it. My husband jumped too and landed in an odd position, crumpled in the fetal position, grasping his lower hip. I thought he'd been stung by a bee or something but no, we're just at the age now, when a wrong twist can bring you swiftly to your knees. 

We decided to bookend our vacation this year with two rockin' concerts. Foo Fighters on the front end and NF at the back. NF was scheduled the Saturday after J's miscalculation.  Lots of heat and ice later, he declared he thought he was good to go, even though, he was shuffling around with grandpa's old cane for the better part of a day. (I've spoken on here before about the stubbornness of my father, but I believe Josh Hancock has him beat. 😉)

I told him it would be okay if we didn't go. No one would be upset. We were all tired. The kids even chimed in and let him know that it wasn't a big deal. The show was happening at Spectrum Center and we had nosebleed seats. If you've been to Spectrum, you know how the up-most level looks like it's one wrong step away from falling off a concreted cliff face. The steps are steep. The seats are rigid and there's only one way to sit, straight up and packed-in like sardines. (It's where we saw Tool back in February and I made friends real fast with the dude to my left over the community armrest.)

We couldn't find close parking and had to walk a few blocks to the show. Then, I almost got run over by a dude on a bike. Then, Josh and I had to come to the very quick realization that in order to save the child running from his parents from diving into oncoming traffic, we may have to lunge towards him. I wasn't quite close enough to him but had already decided that I was going to throw my body to the ground before I watched a kid get flattened. I had mentally prepared myself for the crunch as I re-broke my healed arm to keep that crazy kid out of harm's way. Josh got in the tackling stance and fortunately the kid stopped running before either of us were needed. 

All of these things were happening leading up to the concert, that I assured Josh, we didn't have to go to and yet, we pressed on. 

We pressed on through my introversion and uncomfortable feelings of anxiety and fear of being in the 'big' city, being around so many people, staying together, not getting lost, on top of my youngest's fear and anxiety. We began counting "the signs" that I felt should count towards all the reasons why we should turn back and not follow through. We looked around and saw all the things and felt all the fear and yet still we pushed on. And when we got to the venue, Josh scanned our tickets and the block of red shown with a big fat DENY, I turned to my kids and said, "See? Not meant to be." 

But a small voice told me to follow Josh to the ticket booth, one in which I found hard to ignore. The ticket concierge said the stage was obstructed and we were going to have to change seats. He gave Josh six paper tickets to scan but before we left, he looked us over again and said, "How many did you say you have?  Six? I'm going to upgrade you." 

So, he did. 

We now found ourselves in section 100, one step up from the pit in cushioned chairs with ample room and so close to the stage, that if we would've tossed Rose, she could've landed on the stage. (None of the old farts were going to be tossing anyone, obviously.)

Now, what would have happened if we had let our feelings of fear or the signs-seen be the determining factor in our evening's choices? 

We would have missed out on God's provision in our time of weakness. 

I forget sometimes that my feelings aren't the same as my faith. Feelings are important, for sure. There's been many a time that my "gut" feeling or intuition has gotten me out of a pickle or two, but when my feelings of inadequacy or fear or heartache get in the way of my destiny, well, that's not good. 

I apologized to my family when I settled into my cushy seat and I marveled at how truly amazing God is. He takes care of the things that we can't even see yet. I'm a work-it-out over thinker, meaning, I've weighed all the outcomes before my partner has finished his sentence. And yet, God throws in curve balls so miraculous, that my human brain can't even begin to comprehend. 

I've been on this earth forty-one years and if there's anything I've learned about anything, it's that it's best to just take myself out of the equation and let the master of the universe do his thang. 

Perhaps it's time to put that decades old question back in of, "What would Jesus do?" 

I think He'd stand on truth and not let fear get the best of him. He'd press on through the muck and the fire until His destination was reached. He'd love big and not fret with all the silliness that surrounds us today. He'd live his life, all 30+ something years of it, to its fullest potential, die and raise again to raise up nations. 

What would happen if we started living like Jesus? Free of fear and care of the silly stuff that surrounds us? What if Josh or I hadn't been on that street with that child? What would have happened had we not been there, blocking his path, ready to wrangle him before he got into traffic? What if we had turned back and not pressed through because of some silly little fear we felt? 

Let my simple object lesson be a reminder to press through, boo. You are needed. God put you where you are for a purpose. I know it's hard. I know it's honestly the worst, sometimes, but press through. Don't give up or give in.  It is so worth it. I promise.  I pinkie promise.