There are days I feel like I’m walking outside of myself. I’m going, doing, and moving and, as I move about, I am in slow motion watching what is around me. I stop, pause, stare, listen, and notice. I wonder if I am living in the moment or loosing myself. The sound of the shower and the water hitting the tile. The creak of my old wooden floor that startles the cat’s eyes open. I look into his beautiful green eyes and notice the color of the blanket matches perfectly with his eyes. I smile at him and say good morning. I brush my hair and my husband updates me on news. Something about Twitter and a rich man who bought the majority shares and now sits on the board. Our morning ritual for over 30 years.

Life has changed drastically. I find it is too hard to list or write about it. There is no one in my life who has not experienced this change or transition. I walk with those who hurt and hope. I’m listening to a devotional book by Lysa Terkeurst called Seeing Beautiful Again. Devotion 1 is called “The Process before The Promise”.

I appreciated her honesty about current realities, ugly words spoken, hurt, and feelings of despair. She guides us to Psalm 40 and challenges us to trust a process. God is not picking on us but he chose us to experience His promises in our current reality. Even though it is hard to live in your current story, you can trust and hope for a process that will lead you to hopeful outcomes.

I’ve lived in moments that guide me toward hope even though the current reality would suggest something different. A hug, a hand, a friend who listens and believes in your story, a son-in-law and daughter who stop by to fix a limb and put numbers on your mailbox. A Word from God, nature, and the kindness of a stranger. I’m grateful for these moments and for green blankets that match the green in my cat’s eyes. The colors, the now, and the simple gifts. The things that pass by in a flash like a social media post from a friend that he has been sober for one year. The apple trees that are barren but will produce a harvest in the fall–trust in the process that they will produce fruit in due season. Pictures from a friend who went to Hawaii– a long awaited dream with her mother. The trip comes after a great loss.

I used to believe that I could conquer anything. Now, I’m learning that the One who has overcome this World is my only trust, and I can only rely on the process before me with Him. When you enter this world, your passage is through the birth canal of your mother with a family awaiting your entrance in hospital waiting rooms, watching you enter and take your first breath, parties, phone calls, and social media posts. All the world awaits you! When you leave this world, it is you and your Maker. Some of us are fortunate to anticipate our last day if we are in the care of hospice. We can somewhat plan our final moments with loved ones and wrap up any conversations that needed to be spoken. In between these moments that all of us experience–birth and death–we live.

Where are you in the living? What is your story? What words and stories have been placed on you as the world defines you? Is it freedom you seek? Freedom to love who you are and the processes you’ve experienced and did the best you could? Freedom to speak without every word measured or judged? Freedom to express and love with great joy? Freedom to dance and sing in the valley and the mountaintops?

You are not alone. Although our journey is different, we all desire freedom. Your living is yours with your God and your process. I pause and I pray for anyone reading this post. I prayed for those who are doing the living now and for those unborn. If you are reading this a hundred years from now, I’ve prayed for you and your freedom. May you know joy in the midst of your process. If you are my grandchild or great grandchild, Gigi loves you. You have a grandmother who prayed for you in this moment. Live! Experience freedom! And, I’ll see you in our eternal hope one day.