Heading West

August 12th. I woke up to an empty room, packed up the aero bed, and took a few last glances around my little abode. My room had been such a place of encounter with the Lord, of intimacy with the Father, of writing and reading and thinking and dreaming…and laughing…and of course some dance parties. I would miss it. Transition lends to a great need in me to savor, to remember. I remember waking up that morning and so wanting to remember every possible thing that God had done in my life in that room, as if just remembering it allowed me to somehow pack it in a suitcase and take it with me for always. I remember thinking one of my first nights in that room that someday, it might be hard to leave it. I was counseling myself because Cairo felt rather awkward at the time and I wondered if I’d ever feel at home. I now find myself recapping this wisdom as I settle into Redding.

The troops came over to help us clean a bit and send us off. We gathered in the empty living room, thanking the Lord for the provision of the house and recounting a bit how God had used this place to bless so many visitors and kids in Cairo. I sat there, too overwhelmed with memories to sum up what a sweet home this had been. We prayed, we cried, we handed over our keys.

Our new tenants were already there to move in, so we asked them to take one more photo on our beloved porch.

We loaded into our cars and drove over to Gary and Sharon’s house to get something and exchanged tearful hugs. Nothing seems complete with out a shofar…so we blew one, and loaded into the cars. Jess had made us a CD for driving out of town. So as Amanda, Kristy and I loaded into our separate packed vehicles, we put our CDs in, cranked up the music, and slowly drove by our precious little tribe, waving with great love.

I rolled down the windows as I drove down the main drag of Cairo, letting Chris Tomlin’s “God of this city” billow through my Cairo, believing it evermore, yes He is the God of this city, and GREATER things ARE yet to come for this town. I may not understand all that God is doing, but I know it is GOOD.

As I drove under the levee wall at the edge of town, I cried out as loud as my weepy voice could, “Thank you!” Thank you to my precious Jesus, who knew what He was doing all along. Thank you for bringing me Cairo, for bringing me to a place where I could be striped of so many distractions of the world, to find the reality of relationship with you. To learn more how to love and receive love. To learn how to remove the masks and live exposed in the safety of Your love. To let myself love so much it hurts to say goodbye. Thank you for knowing, Papa. Thank you for knowing I needed Cairo, I needed this tribe, I needed You unleashed in my life. Thank you for giving me strength to be foolish in the eyes of man, that I might be captivated by the eyes of God.

And now, Papa. You keep leading…I’ll follow.