“It’s a reminder to trust that not everything will be stolen”
I found myself saying these words in a voice message to Amy last week as I described the squirrels and birds who have been digging in the garden and scavenging for my seeds. After a week of shooing them away, questioning why I’d planted a garden, and wondering if anything would grow - seeds sprouted, green shoots abound, and new life was/is growing. Not everything was stolen. The next day I was talking with my grief counselor over the phone about stress and anxiety and sadness. I shared with her a story about a silent retreat I was gifted four years ago and how re-reading my journals from that season was bringing unexpected peace and reminders of the goodness and faithfulness of God. I shared that I had painted a canvas after that retreat with the words: “do not fear what is lost” and that I’ve been repeating that to myself every day.
As my counselor listened she asked “how do you see that translating to your future - to what’s next?” We left my session with that question unanswered and the promise to talk again in two weeks. As I spent a few minutes thinning zinnia seedlings this afternoon, my comment to Amy came back - and perhaps gives a hint at how to look to the future: “trust that not everything will be stolen.” Trust that in the ever changing routines and disrupted days that there will also be reminders of what is constant and true. Trust that though there is much being pulled away and apart, there is also plenty that will remain. Truthfully, this is not how I feel every moment of every day - but it is helpful to have a touchstone - to remember God’s faithfulness in the past and hold to hope of what is next to come.