Picking Up Where I Left Off?

I have considered returning to this neglected blog off and on for the better part of a couple of months. During random, occasional pauses in the day, I will come back here where I was so faithful to update once upon a time, and just stare - wanting to write but having little to say or not knowing where to begin after such a prolonged absence. One of the reasons this desire to write has crept back up has been through reading testimonies from women who have recorded their journeys via their own personal blogs or published books. I read their words, am reminded of how beneficial (and healing) the discipline of writing can be to one's own journey, and am compelled to return to writing for the same reasons.

But where to begin? How does one pick up where they left off after what is closing in on two years? Do I rehash eighteen months of continuing to love my job and thrive in my workplace, a year of diving headfirst into fruitful, joyful, seemingly nonstop ministry...or do I painstakingly unpack the aftermath of how our ministry came to a painful and unexpected halt nearly five months ago? There will be some of that - there should be some of that unpacking to a degree... Ministry was hindered, relationships were severed, character was misjudged, trust was definitely damaged, and all of these effects resulted in a husband and wife who were crushed and confused at the end of April. What we experienced at our now previous church has the kind of impact that affects a person at the very core of his or her identity.

And that's where I'm at as I hesitantly return to this blog. I'm in the midst of navigating some pretty unfamiliar and uncomfortable waters as I look inward at my own heart and process how events of this year have very honestly impacted me. Grief and disappointment have a way of bringing you to that place, making you answer questions you've possibly never had to ask yourself...or at least not quite so honestly. In a different light and with a very wounded heart, I've wrestled with questions of God's goodness, and grappled with His care, provision, and the Truth that He has not left us alone.

So as I dust off the cobwebs here, as I make a feeble attempt at returning to writing as a way to heal and process, my hope is that there is a small glimmer of encouragement through the words to come. I read two autobiographies recently from women with vastly different stories, but both marked by profound grief and joy. The common thread was this: in each account, I saw a picture of a woman clinging to Hope - the only Hope that finds its Source in the One who really has us. In not only His sovereignty, but in His goodness, He has us.

I put all my hope in the truth of Your promise,

And I steady my heart on the ground of Your goodness

When I'm bowed down with sorrow, I will lift up Your name,

And the foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy

Because You are good to me, good to me

You are good to me, good to me

You are good to me

And I lift my eyes to the hills where my help is found

And Your voice fills the night, raise my head up to hear the sound

And though fires burn all around me, I will praise You, my God,

And the foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy

Because You are good to me, good to me

You are good to me, good to me

You are good to me

Your goodness and mercy shall follow me, all my life

I trust in Your promise...

(A.Assad)