Last spring, my sister encouraged me to read "Life Interrupted" by Jen Hatmaker. She said I would like it and I do really enjoy Jen's humor and perspective on life, but I was hesitant to pick it up. Why? Because I was afraid God would use it to call me to do something hard. I really don't like life interruptions at all and, as a military spouse, my life is interrupted every 2-3 years by a move as it is.
While Jen's book is her story of how God called them to leave the life of comfort they enjoyed in order to minister to the homeless of Austin, TX, it is not a book that calls everyone to do that. Instead, it is a call to allow God to interrupt the comfort of your life to do whatever it is He is calling you to do.
As I read it, I felt a stirring to do something different, to step out in faith, but I had no idea what step I should take.
Last year we lived outside of Boston and we came in frequent contact with homeless people asking for help. They stood outside at busy stoplights; they were vocal at the entrance to the T (the local subway); one older woman slept on the T with her bags surrounding her. Our boys had many questions about these people: How did they become homeless? Why don't they use the Rescue Missions? Why don't they get jobs? Why is she sleeping on the T with all those bags around her?
Meanwhile, I fought to answer a different set of questions--How do I help them? How do I know who to help? Where do I even begin? There was one young woman huddled on the floor of a subway tunnel whose hopeless and desperate eyes still haunt me. Tears sprang to my eyes after we passed her and I longed to go back and help, but I didn't know how. Because of these encounters and because there is a powerful story in "Life Interrupted" about giving away brand new cowboy boots that moved me and because the book was about the Hatmakers' ministry to the homeless, I erroneously thought God was calling me to that same type of ministry.
I waited for Him to make it clear how I was supposed to live this out in my life, but answers never came and I began to get restless.
In the midst of this internal struggle, we relocated to the DC area. When we arrived in DC, the excitement of our new adventure was over-shadowed for me by a growing restlessness and discouragement. In spite of being welcomed by several people we already knew and loved, I felt adrift in our new location. I couldn't put my finger on the problem, though, and I tried to explain it in terms I understood from previous experience:
- It was just due to two moves in two years. But that didn't really explain it because it was a move we knew would happen and were actually looking forward to.
- It must be the annual struggle I face as a homeschooling mom--"This isn't enough, I should be doing more than 'just' homeschooling". But as my husband lovingly pointed out, that didn't make sense in the Fall when I was gearing up for the year--that struggle usually hits in February.
- It must be grief from moving. But I wondered whether I would actually grieve a place I didn't mind leaving when no other move had affected me in that way.
I finally gave up trying to figure it out and attempted to ignore it by throwing myself into the busyness of our new life.
If you read my blog post "Why you will find us in a movie theater on Sunday morning", you already know part of the rest of the story.......And it involves another book.
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