Today marks three months since we left our home in Baton Rouge. Three months that I've been happy to unpack and nest and go to the grocery store. And, come to find out, three months is my big-change coping delay. Its amazing, really, when you think you've got this contentment thing down. Then you move 700 miles away and are faced immediately [or within three months] with your arrogance.
After a week of finally mourning this move and with some God-breathed encouragement from loved ones, my stubborn and arrogant self was honest with the Lord about my sadness and desperate need for His peace. That afternoon, I was out and about [at the grocery store] among a very different Columbia. School was back and the air was shockingly cool and weightless. On the crosswalk was a seemingly hand-picked mix of high school stereotypes. I passed college girls riding home from class together and sat beside big yellow buses with their familiar heavy idling. A sound that takes me back to four years worth of away football games.
I realized that instead of feeling sorry for myself and crying in the grocery store [again], I had a sense of God-given peace. Peace that assured me that we were going to truly be a part of this community one day even if not as quickly as desired. Peace that takes away anxiety [Phil. 4:6], that surpasses all understanding [Phil. 4:7], that does not come from the world [John 14:27]. Peace that is boundlessly promised and often forgotten.
As I'm hoping my heart becomes more and more planted in South Carolina, it is drifting to South LA these last few days with Isaac entering the picture. We feel as we should be there, hunkered down with our fellow South Louisianians. Know, if you are there, that you are on our hearts and minds. Some of you already know that because of my incessant check-up text messages. We are praying for homes and lives and and livelihoods and our precious coastline. And for the continued resilience that is always true of Louisianians!