Last Eighteen Months

Someone once said that it only takes one sentence to alter the book of your life. If that is indeed the case, my entire life the last eighteen months has been what can only be described as an endless string of life-changing sentences.

It has been quite the rollercoaster. The kind that you freak out on because you are having so much fun and can’t wait to get off and throw up! That kind. The roller coaster you get on because you know your friends will make fun of you for eternity for being a wimp if you don’t ride. The roller coaster that’s in the picture on the front of the theme park brochure. The one that you never, ever in a billion years, no matter how much you were paid to do so, would ever ride again. THAT, in a summary, has been my life this year. You could basically stop reading this blog right now. But please don’t.

Sentences. Funny how our whole world is framed by them. Our communication system is based on sentences, sentence structure. We spend our lives throwing them around, diagramming them, analyzing them, overanalyzing (both hands raised and waving) them. One sentence can absolutely change the course of your life.

December 2008:       “Daddy, Mom, I just got in a wreck.”

Wrecked. Not my fault, no matter how much you (and you know who YOU are) want to joke about my driving! I was rear-ended three days before Christmas. My trip to Austin was postponed and I was given the gift of time. A gift, I must say, that was not very appreciated at the time. Two weeks of no job, no school, laying on a couch. The event I had deemed to wreck (punny!) my life in fact provided me with direction. After being able to do nothing but pray (not even open Christmas presents! Sigh!), I came out of that boring two weeks with answers to questions I had been searching for.

Enter four months of physical therapy and not being able to wear high heels. That was fun.

January 2009:          “I’ve decided to move to Austin.”

Here’s the part where half of you cheer and half of you cry! I didn’t really know what I was going to do there, how I was going to get the money to move, where I was going to live, etc. All I knew was that it was time to move away. I could write for months about the physical, mental and emotional processes that accompanied this decision, but we’re only at month two of my 18 month blog!

Oddly, I cried like a little kid who just found out Santa wasn’t real when I told my parents I had decided to move. They did not shed one single tear. That’s what makes my parents so amazing. When I need strength, they are.

February 2009:        “You got the apartment!”

Hindsight is 20/20, right? Turns out that the wreck in December was great timing. My settlement check came through so quickly that I am convinced God had a hand in it. I was able to put down several months on the perfect apartment without having landed a job yet. Without getting in that wreck, who knows where I would have ended up? Would I have ever stopped my insane life long enough to listen to God? Without being forced to be still, would I have missed the opportunity to move?

April 2009:     “Krista, while you’re still in town, we’d like you to come back to Neiman’s for a second interview.”

“It looks like there was a mix-up in your curriculum and we’ll need to reevaluate a few things before you can graduate.”

“You’ll have to wear a walking boot for six weeks.”

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! April was… a whole lot of words I’m not allowed to say. Less than a month away from graduation, I still did not have a job. I was told that my second minor had actually been discontinued and reformatted, which was going to delay my graduation. Told this after I had already completed 18 hours of course work in the “non-existent” curriculum.

On my last day of my job, I smashed my foot into a display. Ended up with torn ligaments on the side and strained muscle on the top. Fancy walking boot for six stinking weeks. Which meant: back in flats. Thankfully, I had acquired a few cute pair due to the wreck. (See how all things work together?!)

May 2009:     “We worked things out and you are set to graduate.”

                   “We would love for you to come work with us at Neiman’s.”

                   “Goodbye, Louisiana.”        

                   “Hello, Texas!”

This is the part where life got on speed. My counselor was able to work with the University to approve my graduation with the coursework completed. On May 14^th, I got a call from Neiman Marcus saying that I had gotten the job I wanted! The next day, I was graduated from LSU with a degree in Mass Communication, concentration in Public Relations and double minors in Textiles, Merchandising and Apparel and in Business Administration. (Yes, I do have to write the whole thing out. I labored intensely for four straight years, including summers, to be able to brag.) Seven days after graduating, I packed up and moved to Austin, TX. My parents cried. Finally.

Moment to be deep. When you are doing what you are supposed to do, perfect in God’s timing and will, everything works out. Not for one minute have I ever questioned my decision of moving to Austin. Once I felt that it was the right decision, every little detail worked out. I have had no doubt, no fear. God has been and still is in complete control. Even in situations where I have been tested, measured and, yes, I admit, WORRIED, I have had no doubt about me being where I am supposed to be.

I am sure my parents were a bit freaked at my moving to Austin. When I look back now, I wonder, “What was I thinking?! I only got the job here for sure SEVEN DAYS before I was set to move.” That, I’ve determined, was faith. More faith than I have had in a long time. I had completely put my mind, my heart and my future in God’s hands. And He provided above and beyond what I could ever ask or think.

July 2009:      “For every mountain You’ve brought me over, I give You praise.”

So far this year had been positive change. I was at the top of my game, rocking at my job, loving life. My sister came to visit for the first time. She, our cousin Lindsey and I were asked to sign a song at church while she was visiting. We chose to do “For Every Mountain.” Little did we know that each of our lives would be dramatically tested in the months ahead. The song we presented would become more personal than any of us could ever imagine.

September 2009:      “Surprise, Mom!”

After five months of living in Austin and not going back to visit Louisiana, I decided to surprise my Mom for her 50^th birthday! Von de Leigh knew I was coming, but I knew I couldn’t tell Dad because he’d spill! The surprise was perfect! How, then, did this sentence effect my life?

As most of you know, I was raised in a pastor’s home. I have lived my life doing what I call “filling holes.” If there was a need/hole in the church, I filled it. Sunday school. Children’s church. Offering. Hostessing. Drumming. (Okay, only twice, but it counts!) Baking. Singing. Playing. Youth leader. Drama. Deaf ministry. Campus ministry. Part of what made moving to Austin emotionally draining was the fact that I had to walk away from the church I grew up in. Other than leaving my family, it was the most difficult part of the move. My heart still hurts over it.

When I went home to surprise my mom and walked into the door of the church I grew up in, I knew something was different. My parents looked beat. There was a heaviness in the air. I sat down on the front row, the same row I had sat on for over 17 years, and I knew something was about to change.

October 2009:          “Dad just resigned.”

                             “Your Uncle David was just elected.”

I will never forget the Wednesday night in Austin during a church service when I felt my phone vibrate. I looked over at my aunt sitting next to me and my eyes welled up. Without even reading the text, I knew what it said. My sister simply texted, “Dad just resigned.”

My world stopped. A flood of emotions I still haven’t completely processed began pouring out of my heart. I don’t remember making it out of the door. I just remember sitting in my car and calling my parents. We all just sat there, silent on the phone. There was a peace that passed all understanding. I knew in my heart that it was the right timing. God’s timing is always perfect. Even when it hurts.

One of my favorite scriptures says, “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.” That describes the next several months of my life. There is a wholeness about being broken.

Fifteen days later, my Uncle David, Lindsey’s dad, was elected as the General Superintendent of the United Pentecostal Church International. Our family was experiencing the most drastic changes. I felt bipolar. My heart was bleeding and rejoicing. I was watching as my parents were dying from hurt that accompanies working for God. I was watching as my uncle and aunt were experiencing the blessings (and burden) that accompanies working for God. My uncle and aunt, at a new peak of their ministry; my parents, at the new depth of theirs. Two opposite situations. Same scared feeling. Our world would never be the same.

And still we sang, “For every mountain You’ve brought me over, for every trial You’ve seen me through, for every blessing, Hallelujah! For this, I give You praise.”

January 2010:          “Happy New Year!”

FINALLY! A new year. New beginning. Time to put the last chaotic year behind and begin anew. I looked at the clock as it struck midnight, convinced that this year HAD to be better. Never before had the words “Happy New Year” been so welcomed.

February 2010:        “Krista, we need to do surgery next week.”

My health has been a gigantic question mark for quite some time. After years of trial and error, I underwent surgery in February. The result was I was finally diagnosed with a disease that won’t kill me, but will continue to complicate my life indefinitely.

May 2010:               “It seems this is coming back earlier than anticipated.”

There are some things in life that just never will be understood. When you’re dealing with sickness, it is easy to ask questions that all begin with the word “Why.” Those questions are rhetorical. The poser usually doesn’t expect a real answer. I don’t have the answers. Here’s what I do know:

I believe with all my heart that God is Healer. I know He can heal. I have seen Him heal. Sometimes He chooses not to. And after years of dealing with health issues, I have come to the conclusion that if He never does heal me, I will still proclaim that He is my healer.

That’s what I have learned the most the past eighteen months. God is a healer. He heals what is broken. He puts back together the pieces. He mends the wounds. He loves unconditionally. He is the peace that passes all understanding. He sees every tear. He rejoices in every triumph. He knows every scar. He hears the whispered thoughts. He restores the joy. The sentence that has changed my life the most in the last eighteen months is one of the shortest sentences in the world:

“He is.”

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