I'm supposed to be at Starbucks. Sipping on a skinny vanilla latte, replying to emails, writing on this-here blog, and maybe partaking in a tiny dessert to celebrate the 40 lbs I've recently lost. But instead my legs feel unsteady and I'm not entirely sure I can get up out of this chair.

There's nothing really wrong with me. My body feels fine and good, and life is somewhat calm on this rainy-ish day, at least for me and my clan. But there are literal and figurative storms brewing, aftermaths of destruction just three hours south of here, and hearts broken from a child suddenly gone just across the neighbourhood.

This leaves me feeling weak and impoverished, meek in spirit, mourning with those who mourn who I don't even know, have never met, unable to serve or comfort. In a text last night to a friend who is close to one of these, I find myself typing, "any old verse or thought about God just isn't gonna cut it. Only He can break the darkness here..."

It was - and is - a hard day to know the mind of God. I hate those days, in all honesty.

Finding God in Finding Nemo

So on Saturday nights when Matt has youth group, the children and I have a cinema party. Tonight on the "big screen": Finding Nemo. I forgot how a) funny that movie is, and b) how it nearly makes me cry every time. The first time the man and I saw this film was very soon after the boy was born and we were on the verge of tears the whole time! Lame, I know.

Anyway, so tonight I'm watching, feeding the baby, keeping the other two in check, and it's at the part where Dory and Marlin are inside the whale. Now the water goes down past the whale's uvula (right?) and it looks like our two fish friends are going to meet a digestive demise. Dory's just going with it, telling Marlin that the whale says it's time to let go and that it'll be OK. But of course Marlin, prickly old man fish that he is, refuses. He catches Dory by the fin and asks, "How do you know something bad isn't going to happen?" Dory's answer: "I don't."

Epiphany. The future has a lot of question marks. There are very few certainties. The only one thing we do know for sure: God is good. Oh, and He loves us, too. As we hurl forward towards this move and transition and some unanswered questions (which, by now, you know I hate), I find myself asking myself (and husband), "How do you know something bad isn't going to happen?" We don't. Something bad, or uncomfortable, or sad, or unpredictable may happen. And God will still be good. And we may, in fact, still be OK.

But, maybe, even if we let go and fall, something good may be waiting on the other side. Something we couldn't see before. Maybe it's what we were hoping for, but requires a bit more work. Or maybe it's something unexpected... and better. Maybe God was just wanting us to let go, and let Him blow us out of His big blowhole.

Weird.

So tonight, I'm gonna rest a little easier. I'm gonna go with it. Even if it's just for one night. I'll let you know if it takes.