My grandfather was dying. As I raced to catch a late-night flight from Florida to my home in Houston, my mind flooded with memories of this man I had called Paw-Paw for nearly half a century.
It was 4:34 AM, and I still couldn’t sleep. I grabbed the phone from my bedside, started scrolling, and soon found myself watching a series of videos on social media. The baby laughing at his daddy pretending to sneeze; the toddler strutting about after putting on her mother’s makeup; and the twin infants snuggled up next to each other, holding hands.
“What are you doing now?” I try not to let my words fumble out and search for an answer to the well-intended question. How do I say I’m learning to make pasta sauce from scratch, taking afternoon walks, and still raising a 12-year-old without sounding too boring? The question feels so loaded; though it’s only light conversation. It feels like I should answer with something more — riveting. I want to say I am flourishing.
Spring in the Texas Panhandle brings two things with it. Wind and a high chance of wildfires! The climate in the panhandle is extremely dry! So, when you mix a dry climate with gusting winds the risk of wildfires increases dramatically. I will never forget the wildfire that ravaged the land in the spring of my sixth-grade school year. The eerie glow of the orange flames illuminated the dark night sky, and smoke billowed through the air. Everything smelled of smoke.
As a child, I watched in wonder as my great-grandmother enjoyed World Wide Wrestling on her eighteen-inch television with the bunny ears antenna. As a young adult, I taught kickboxing and took classes in jujitsu. Through these and other experiences, I learned to be a fighter. However, none of my defensive techniques nor the power of my own will were any assistance in overcoming what felt like a tag team of self-pity and shame. I longed to stand empowered to proclaim God’s truth and passionately love His people, yet I continued to battle to believe I was enough for God.