Dear Little Girl…I Don’t Know—and Maybe I Don’t Have To

I don't know.

That seems to be my mantra lately. Maybe even where I live.

don't know what the future holds for the people I love.

I don't know what challenges my family may face.

I don't know whether relationships I treasure will always look the way I hope they will.

I don't know what is going on with my health.

I don't know if I will live to be 111, healthy and dancing like I desire.

I don't know if I will be financially okay for the rest of my life—or better than okay.

And I don't know if every deep desire of my heart will be met in the way I imagine it will.

Maybe some will.

Maybe some won't.

I don't know.

And God, You know how hard those three words are for me.

I like answers.

I like plans.

I like knowing what comes next.

I like believing that if I work hard enough, pray hard enough, prepare enough or pay close enough attention, maybe I can keep the people I love safe and keep my own heart from being broken again.

But I can't know all of that.

What I can know is You.

There is a God who loves me.

Who created me.

Who knows me.

Who has a plan for me.

And maybe my job isn't to figure You out or get You to hand me the itinerary for the rest of my life.

Maybe my job is to sit with You.

The way I sit with my friends.

To talk.

To listen.

To spend enough time with You that I begin to know Your character even when I don't know what You're doing.

I don't have all the answers in this minute.

And that is still really hard for me.

But I think I am learning to live in the grey area of life with my own splash of joy and color.

Maybe that's what faith looks like for me right now.

Not certainty.

Presence.

Not having tomorrow figured out.

Living today.

Not knowing how every story ends.

Trusting that I am loved while I am still somewhere in the middle of mine.

And maybe, God, my little splash of color matters.

Maybe my sparkle will someday reach another woman who is desperately searching to be seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Cherished.

Maybe she'll find my story while she's sitting in her own grey area wondering what in the hell she's supposed to do next.

And maybe she won't find an answer here.

Maybe she'll find something better.

Company.

Someone else who didn't know either.

Someone who cried and questioned and prayed and screwed things up and tried again.

Someone who learned she didn't have to beg another human being to choose her.

Someone who discovered she could be uncertain and still have joy.

Someone who learned that grey doesn't mean God has left the room.

And maybe she'll realize:

I'm not alone here.

God is with me.

And there are women who have sat here before me.

So today, God, I don't know.

And maybe that's okay.

I know You.

I know I'm loved.

I know I'm here.

And today, I'm going to bring my color to the grey.

Amen.