He Knows

There was so much we didn't know before we rolled into this two-stop-sign-and-two-water-tower town. We unfolded from the seats of our vehicle, which were pulled as far forward as they would go to make room in the back for the luggage we brought along to sustain us for two weeks until we could go back for more. 

I smoothed the front of my black dress and inhaled deeply at the sight of the office-building-turned-apartments, aware that everything about our lives would never again be the same. We rang the doorbell and Rob invited us in to gather around the community room table with his own family for our first WillowBridge meal. We ate pizza together, and he handed us the keys to everything and told us to make ourselves at home.

Ryan and I began to haul suitcases and boxes up the stairs to an empty tenant apartment, which would become our temporary home until Rob and his family could move out of the main apartment. On the way, I almost squashed a toad and almost passed out when I realized it. We found our apartment had been pranked by a tenant we had only met at our interview. He had discovered the door was unlocked before we arrived and strategically hid Pringles around the apartment in various drawers and cabinets. He fessed up in no time flat, because he couldn't wait to see what we thought of his joke. I pretended to find it much funnier than I really did. 

The next morning, Ryan and I filled our travel mugs with coffee and reported for the first of our forty hours of training that week. Our minds grew mushier as we made our way to Friday, trying to absorb all the things we didn't know, because we had no background in this field. The teachings on trauma, poverty mindset, cultural competency and more were good and necessary, but nothing was as effective as jumping in and doing the work itself.

And so we did. We jumped in cannonball-style and gave this work every ounce of everything we had. We knew it would be all-encompassing, but we had no idea how all-encompassing. We knew - or at least we hoped - we would love the tenants we served, but we had no idea just how deeply our hearts would care about them. We knew people wouldn't understand what we were doing or why God compelled us to do it, but we also knew He had compelled us to do it, and we would do it with all our might for as long as He asked us to stay. 

We had absolutely no idea how difficult it would be when the day came for us to step down from our role as Community Advocates. We knew it was right. We knew that with all our might. But when you work in a role where your tenants are your family, your office is your home, and your time clock never punches out, it's hard to know how to walk away. It's hard to find a good ending point, because one doesn't exist. So you just assign a day to it and say this is it. This is when we're done.

So we assigned the day and battled irregular heartbeats for days while we waited for the right time to tell Rob. Turns out there isn't a right time to do that, either. So we just assigned a day and said, this is it. This is when we tell him.

And then we had to do it all over again with Sean and Sarah. And the tenants. And our co-workers. We ripped off what felt like a whole box of bandages delivering the news over and over again. Trying to explain. Trying to answer questions when sometimes there weren't answers to give. 

And now I'm here to rip off the bandage with you, my friends. Every night for weeks now, I've said to Ryan, "What should I blog about tomorrow? The only thing consuming my mind is the one thing I can't talk about yet." And so I've shared pieces of my heart on some days and pieces of fluff on other days, and I thank you for reading them all and loving me no matter what I brought. 

There are many more days of stories to come, but today I bring you this piece of it. We are leaving WillowBridge, and the reality of it brings about a hurricane of emotions. We are grieving hard. We were open before the Lord to stay as long or short of a time as He asked, but we really thought it would be longer. We live and work in a fallen world with broken humans. We ARE broken humans. These are some of the reasons we grieve. 

We are also celebrating, because we know we are obeying the Lord's leading, and that is cause for celebration. We celebrate the things ahead that are good and exciting. I can't wait to tell you about those parts.

And in some areas, we are just numb. If I were to list for you the volume of things we have tried to juggle in the last few weeks, I'm pretty sure your jaw would drop to the floor. The logistics of leaving a place of employment, leaving our home, and making decisions for the future (plus regular life carrying on in the midst of it all)...well...it's been nearly impossible to manage. That's saying something for two people who love to manage and organize! 

This we know with all our hearts: this time was not a mistake, nor has it been in vain. God called us here unmistakably. We have seen the realization of a deep dream of ours, which was to be able to work together in ministry. (We loved EVERY SINGLE SECOND of that portion of the last 20 months.) We have grown as a couple and as individuals. We have learned that we are capable of much more than we ever knew. God has taught us more of His heart for the vulnerable as we have served them. And we have made friendships we never would have known otherwise. For these things, we are so, so grateful. 

Yes, there was so much we didn't know before we rolled into this two-stop-sign-and-two-water-tower town. But God knew all of it. He knew what was ahead, and He called us here. There is much we don't know now about what lies ahead in our new adventure. But God knows all of it. He knows what is ahead, and He has been unfolding it one detail at a time.