prepare yourself...

“have I not commanded you? be strong and courageous. do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you.” joshua 1:9

Prepare yourself
For the quiet disappointment that comes after you’ve found your sourdough starter dead. The disappointment that starts an otherwise fully ok day. And then your child begins demanding things you cannot supply. Asking for stores to be open that do not open until 10am and it’s 6:30am and there is not one drop of caffeine in your veins. The push pull that begins at 6:45am and the eggs that will not be eaten, but thrown.

But then thank heaven for LEGOs and buttered toast at 9am. It will save your life and you will sing a silent praise chorus that would rattle heavens gates because at 9:15am there is a peace, and you can pour yourself your first glass of water of the day. The order of the day will come and molehills won’t become mountains. The ordinary will be ordinary, and when it feels heavy, you’ll allow its coming and feel it pass through you. And it will not become a part of you.

Selah.

Prepare yourself
Because summer is coming to an end. The air will soon be full of rain and trees are already starting to dot themselves with subtle color, like tweens attempting lipstick for the first time. And maybe this makes you sad. Maybe you wanted one more river float, one more barbecue with the neighbors, one more getaway before schedules come with gaping maw to swallow you whole. Or maybe you’re ready for the autumnal drop in weather. You’re planning your first soup dinner and are looking at your sweaters longingly. You drink in the beauty of nature’s final hurrah before death wraps its icy arms around the sky and we are all snowmen in down alternative coats.

But in the history of mankind, no one is thankful for the now. No one is watching with observance and quiet gratitude at the slipping away of one into the other and saying “thank you for this summer-come-autumn moment.” We are too full of expectation to be thankful for the present.

Selah.

Prepare yourself
To be taken aback by something good. No, not the big thing you’re hoping for. Not the thing that is obvious. It’ll be a lunch where the pesto on your sandwich is just right. Or the patch of seeds in the garden that didn’t look like they were going to make it that bloom overnight. Maybe it’s a favorite movie that’s now free with your Prime membership. Or listening to Gregorian chants while writing on Substack in your bathrobe. Or looking back at a month that kicked you in the teeth and being able to smile—even if you don’t know why you’re smiling. Even if gratitude feels foreign and welcome at the same time.

Maybe it’s not the big things. It might not be the little things. It will be the things you forget about until you’re looking for them desperately later. The car keys of your heart’s desires. And there they were, right where you left them and never where you expected them to be.

Selah.

Prepare yourself
For a breaking open of heaven. A parting in the clouds so profound that your eyes actually do deceive you. Because they weren’t made for this level of beauty. And be prepared to find this loveliness in the strangest places. The little girl with the perfect strawberry blonde hair who is dancing in the waiting room at the dentist. The dye free sprinkles you find for your sensitive child. The face of a unhoused man receiving exactly what their signs asks for (anything).

It will be Miracle Grow poured over all of humanity. Unbeknownst to us, we were all being fertilized. We were all being pruned. We were all being watered. But not all of us knew we were living things. Some of us forgot our feet were roots.

Selah.

Prepare yourself
To finally realize the titles you have given yourself (and you have been given) are incredibly small. Parent, child, spouse, friend, creative, caregiver, academic, musician, baker, athlete, patient, depressed, content. All too small. Miniscule.

Sit with that.

Now take up a new mantle. A metaphysical shield. May you feel its weight and appreciate its wings. May it deeply confuse and enlighten you. May you never fully understand who you are until you are face to face with the Almighty. May He say, “who you are was the never the question” and may it bring peace. May we have that peace now, even on the battlefield. Even in the checkout line. Even on vacation. Even in the intensive care unit. Even in the cavity of our body and everywhere else possible.


Prepare yourself for glory.


Always,
Emily