The God of Present Tenses

Long time, no blog.

The pace of life accelerated out of control around here in July, with gardens and graduates taking the bulk of the hours.

In August, I sent my baby away to college, started my Master's degree (hello, college tuition), and landed in one of the most challenging professional situations I've ever found myself.

There has been insomnia.

There have been tears.

There has been the stupor that only comes when overwork and under-rest collide. 

Oh, and did I mention I am working a retreat team this fall as well?

As my laundry list of responsibilities grew (including laundry, which sits in untouched mounds awaiting action), my mother questioned my participation on this team.

It was tempting to free a night in the crowded calendar, but God said no, and I listened.

This past week, He did a bit more speaking.

It started in the worship, when the Comforter reached into weary places and did His thing.

Then the speaker reminded us that God's name is I AM.

Not I Was or I Will Be.

He is the God of present tenses, in my NOW, because He is unbound by time. 

In every season, He is there.

The past belongs under His blood; the future in His hands alone.

My present tense: morning mist on the pond

Truth be told, nostalgia had taken over, 

a wistfulness for the days when my girls were little, 

and I was a SAHM, 

and, as it always does when viewed backwards, 

life seemed simpler.  

In a school year when I am not at all sure I will survive until May, 

that simplicity (or, at least, those problems) taunted me.

So, in the quiet of that room, the Lord reminded me that I am in my now, 

and He is, too.

He is here, 

in a middle-aged woman attempting to return to college mode for a few semesters.

He is here, 

with a mama launching one from the nest with fear and trembling.

He is here, 

in a classroom with insurmountable issues further complicated by educational bureaucracy.

He is here. Holy, holy.

He is here. Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here.