He’s been speaking all along

I have a good friend who has an extremely active prayer life with the Lord (hi Monique!). Like…He talks to her on the regular. About all kinds of things—her work, her current circumstances, her family, her future…even, at times, about me.

I want that—to hear from my Father all the time about all the things.

It isn’t as if I’ve never heard from Him. I absolutely have. And when it happens, He’s very succinct and direct; His meaning immediately apparent. Sometimes it’s a correction, sometimes a revelation. Always, it’s covered in love.

When Jeff was about five months away from the end of his life, there was an evening when he, his sister and I were talking in our living room. The two of them - for lack of a better term - ganged up on me and said some really unkind things about how I was behaving and how they thought I should be showing up.

It was super hurtful.

I never really addressed it with either of them, except to say at the time that when they found the rule book explaining how a young wife and new mother should act while knowing she’d shortly be losing her husband, to please let me know.

For years after it happened, I’d ruminate on that evening. I wondered if I should talk with my sister-in-law about it, but I didn’t trust myself to do so without getting defensive. I also knew I’d probably have a difficult time receiving whatever she might say because—what if it meant I was a “bad person”? Then my people-pleasing shit would kick in, and I’d walk away feeling worse than if I’d just left it alone and dealt with the occasional sadness and confusion that had surfaced from time to time since that night.

Then, one afternoon several months ago, I was giving my room a much-needed cleaning. I’d just picked up some clothes that were slung over a chair when the Lord very clearly said, “They were afraid and they didn’t know Me.”

I immediately knew it was Him and I immediately knew who and what He was talking about.

Of course they were afraid.

And, at that time, neither of them knew Him.

Just eight words, spoken 24 years after the fact, and I was able to release that night and forgive them both for the things they said.

When I think back on it now, my mind no longer jumps to resentment or to the need to justify why they were so wrong about me. Instead, my heart is filled with compassion for them and even, in some way, for myself.

It also reminds me that God sees every part of my life. He knows my struggles and hurts, my triumphs and my needs.

And apparently, He cares about the really ordinary needs, too.

One of the things I’ve consistently asked God for since I started working is a parking place.

I totally get that this may seem silly or inconsequential to you, but believe me when I say that finding an available parking space near my work is nigh impossible—especially on weekends, during the summer months, on weeknights and street-sweeping days.

Basically, all the time.

I tell you in all honesty that the Lord has given me a parking place Every. Single. Time. Either on the block where I work or just one block over.

It’s happened so often that I don’t even ask Him anymore.

I just know He’s going to do it for me.

More recently, God’s words to me were a correction.

If you watched the monthly IG videos I posted after Michael’s passing (or maybe I mentioned it in one of my blog posts), you may know that Michael didn’t have a life insurance policy.

That fact both hurt and angered me, and it’s been very difficult for me to release those feelings. Especially on the days when I get home from work exhausted in every way, unable to take care of myself the way I want to, without the luxury of unencumbered time to rest and heal and regroup.

On those days, I have a very difficult time believing I was “the love of his life” when he didn’t think to provide for me when his life was over.

A few weeks ago, an old neighbor of ours came into my work. She was genuinely shocked when, after asking about my family, she learned that Michael had passed away.

And I told her, “And there was no life insurance” - suitable intake of a disbelieving breath and pearl clutching - “so here I am.”

Not my best moment.

I know.

No sooner were those words out of my mouth than the Lord said,

“I don’t ever want you to say that again, My daughter. I Am your life insurance.”

Ouch.

He’s right, of course.

He is my life insurance.

And while I know this to be absolutely true, I’m not gonna lie; the pull to hold onto those feelings is still strong, especially when I’m tired and uncertain about my future, when I can feel the enemy lulling me toward bitterness.

But maybe that correction was also a reminder.

The absence of what Michael left behind doesn’t determine how provided for I am.

God does.

No, God doesn’t speak to me in the way He speaks to my friend, nor does He do it as frequently. Not in words, anyway.

He’s always speaking to me, though.

In songs. In conversations. With ravens (1 Kings 17:6). Through His creation. Through my children. In parking places.

In eight words spoken while I’m picking clothes up off a chair.

In a correction that stings because He knows exactly where bitterness is trying to take root.

In so many beautiful and meaningful ways.

He’s endlessly creative, rarely predictable, always personal—showing up for me in the ways He knows I need and will immediately understand.

And because He’s so good all the time, I’ve been getting what I wanted all along. I haven’t needed to hear Him more, but to recognize how often I already do.