Nostalgia, Love, and Patience

Nostalgia is a tricky little lady.

How precious it was, the time when I had morning kindergarten, an afternoon snack (peanut butter and honey with the crusts cut off + strawberry milk), and an episode of Little Bear before retiring for a nap.

How sweet were the days of putting on “play clothes” after church, throwing aside my poufy dress in favor of stretchy pants and light-up shoes in which to run and jump and dance. I miss when my family all lived underneath one roof—it is still a tough concept to chew that I am the youngest, and yet I am almost 20 years old. I suppose it’s a sort of wistful denial; although I am aware of reality, I still feel like a toddler on the inside.

A few days ago, I logged onto Facebook to see a high school classmate of mine got married last week. Married. This tossed me into a fit of anxiety. Then, thankfully, God intervened. He really is swell. Jesus took my racing, desperate thoughts and hit pause. As if I were running full speed on a treadmill and the plug was ripped from the outlet, I was forced (mercifully) to stop letting my thoughts run wild. In that moment, His perfect grace stopped me from allowing those running thoughts to consequently run me.

“My child,” he began (I love it when He calls me that). “Patience.” And that was it. No crazy prophetic experience (I am a religion minor, and would love to nerdily go into detail about prophets and theophanies, but I will refrain for now), and no insight into what lies ahead. Instead, Christ gave me everything I truly needed—patience.

As perfect and simple as life used to be, I have to trust that He has a perfectly complex plan ahead, drenched in the simplest, purest, hard-to-fathom, most wonderful kind of love. I must believe that Jesus has an incredible happiness ahead of me, not measured in juice boxes or in sidewalk chalk, but in laughter, friendship, emotional depth, fellowship with other Christians, service to others, service to the Lord and His Kingdom, and love. I have to believe, I must believe, but most of all, I choose to believe. Patience.