The Unseen Presence in the Basement

I heard a cry from the basement.

"Wuhbekuh! Where are you?"

"Hang on, baby, I'm just getting lunch ready."

"But it's really dark down here!" (Nevermind the light was on and the window was open with a full noon sun beating through.)

I poked my head down the staircase. "Don't worry, I'm still here."

While this is a memory from my babysitting days, I find it to be a fitting illustration of my general life standing.

I've been in the "basement" for about a year now. You know, that place in life where you're doing something that you're pretty sure is on the right track, but you're wanting/needing to get further along? Some people call it a "rutt," I think.

I've been getting impatient with myself. Partly due to the fact that I genuinely am not entirely sure which way I want to go with my interests vs. desires, and that really freaks me out. The other half due to well-meaning adults thinking that I would actually know the answer to questions like "Where do you see yourself in five years", "Is your area of interest one you would feel financially secure in?", or "Do you plan on getting married and starting a family?" These legitimate concerns further exacerbate the first point of the problem, and land me back at square one.

I hate not knowing. I hate not knowing the answer to a basic history fact. I hate not knowing what is going on with people I care about. I hate when I'm standing in line at Panera and my indecisive brain goes off like a siren because I'm still not sure what I'm going to order even though the menu board is right in front of me. And I especially hate not knowing what I'm going to wind up doing in the future.

Yet, herein lies the gem. Only in recent months have I come to discover one of the world's best kept secrets: it's okay to not know.

Dear Me: it's okay to not know.

Because in this not knowing, this pit, this rutt - the Almighty is at work. Just because cymbals aren't crashing doesn't mean He's not gently molding and probing and creating. Just because I can't see Him doesn't mean He isn't there.

And so I'm learning to sit still. To gaze on His face and let the worries grow dim. When the anxiety comes like a restless wave, memories of His goodness and faithfulness reassure me of His Presence. He is holy, and He is here.

"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed."

~ John 20:29 ~

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