before the crest of the hill

When I was a kid I lived near a large theme park. My family didn’t tend to go to those kind of places (I so can’t picture my Dad kickin’ it with the cartoons and eating the crappy park food) so I had to wait until I was old enough to go with my friends. I think I was about 15 when I went for the first time. I was pumped for my first rollercoaster so as soon as we were through the gates we ran straight to the biggest one. Super smart considering I’m not much of a risk taker, I get car sick in the front seat and I have terrible vertigo! But determined I was! All was good until we were strapped in and slowly ascending towards the crest of the first hill. I could hear the creaking of the chains that pulled us painfully slowly towards what I was sure would be my final demise. I was so scared that I was sweating, my teeth were chattering and I was praying out loud. What exactly was I thinking? I think the terror of not knowing what would happen once we topped that hill was the worst thing. Anticipating something good but not being sure it would deliver.

That’s pretty much what is going on in our lives lately. We are moving across the country 4 weeks today, expecting our third (THIRD) child in 14 weeks and I am scared. Every day that ticks by, every box that gets packed, every goodbye I have to say is like those creaking chains dragging me towards the crest of an unknown hill. We have been anticipating the ride but in these last moments I find myself sweating, teeth chatter, praying out loud that all will be well.

I am reminded of Jeremiah where God promises, “I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for”. So I’m clinging to that as I did the safety bars.

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