This One Word: Return

foot prints ~52/4 'soothing repetition'

 

There is a river, and it has washed my slate clean.

New home. New baby. New friends. New church. New weather. The year is new, and my days are full of new things.

Strangely, not one bit of it feels new. These are déjà vu days, and everything in them feels familiar and comfortable. As if I have already worn deep grooves into this daily life.

My baby daughter looks exactly like her sister, my firstborn. Holding this baby, nine years disappear, and I am a new mother again. I sit in the same rocking chair, she wears the same pink dress, and I sometimes can’t tell who is in my arms, the first baby or the last.

I tuck her into the same blue pram, and we walk beneath maple trees on our way to meet the school bus. I remember this stroller cutting through the icy winds on Chicago’s sidewalks, and I think I must have always known, somewhere deep within, that I was headed to this good place.

It is simply too familiar. I am not surprised by any of it. Only grateful. Deeply grateful.

I once wrote that I was living the first half of this verse: “Just as I watched over them to uproot and tear down … so I will watch over them to build and to plant” (Jeremiah 31:28).

Now I am living the second half.

My firstborn was a firecracker of a baby, and she broke me. In so many good and necessary ways, she broke me.

My fourth is like gentle rain in spring. One fierce and one gentle, they have both been good gifts.

There were years when all was uprooted. Now new things are growing. Both are necessary. Both are good.

I have been hearing this whisper for months, but now it is a shout: “Return! Return!”

I have said, “Yes, Lord, I am coming,” again and again I have said it until this moment, having just tipped over into this new year, I know I have arrived. I have returned.

And every day of this year, I will wake with one word in mind: return.

The poet T. S. Eliot says “We shall not cease from exploration / And the end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time.”

I have journeyed to my own beginning, and there is no surprise in this. Haven’t I always felt most at home with the One who names himself Alpha and Omega?

He is my beginning, and he is my end, and I have come home. I have returned; I am, every day, returning.

 

“My eyes will watch over them for their good, and I will bring them back to this land. I will build them up and not tear them down; I will plant them and not uproot them. I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the Lord. They will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with all their heart.”

Jeremiah 24:6-7

 

Your Favorite Posts and a Thank You

clementines

 

Happy New Year, my friends.

Recently, someone I love sat at my kitchen table while I fiddled with pots and pans. She asked me if I love to cook. I told her that despite evidence to the contrary (shelves of cookbooks, dozens of kitchen gadgets), I don’t really enjoy cooking. I’m usually in a hurry to get it over with. But here is the truth: I love food, and I love feeding people.

This blog is like that for me. I love stories, and I love sharing them with you. Without you, there would be little point to all the hours I’ve spent tapping away at this keyboard.

Thank you. I’m so grateful for your presence here in 2012.

For those of you still in the mood for looking back, here are a few of the most popular stories from the past year at There is a River.

When my daughter’s young classmate was murdered, I wanted her to know that darkness does not get the last word. The last word is Shalom.

Half-way through 2012 we went searching for a new home. This is how we knew we’d found it.

This was the year when God led me out of the desert I had wandered in for two years. Now I know that deserts are terrible, beautiful places. God brought me to the desert because he loves me.

In 2012 I received a great gift. Her name is Elsa Spring.

I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a new year as much as I look forward to 2013. God has shown his goodness, and I can’t wait to discover what’s next.

 

“Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.”
– Corrie ten Boom

Pin It on Pinterest