Perfect Timing

Lately I've been feeling weird for not posting here. I've come by a couple of times and started to write, only to nix it two minutes in. Something felt forced. It wasn't time yet.

But tonight I listened to the wrong song and the dam broke. Maybe it was the right song.

Like many others, I've always had a strong, almost visceral connection to music. Most of my favorite songs are associated with some special memory, and hearing them again brings me back to those moments in a way that's at times shockingly vivid and sensory.

The earworm tonight is a simple little worship tune that everybody knows. I typically hate the "standards" for their overuse and cheese-factor, but a few bars of this one always stick in my heart. "The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning — time to sing Your song again. Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes."

In an instant, I'm reliving my most recent birthday weekend.

I was given the incredible opportunity to go on retreat with my fiance's campus ministry back in the fall. Many of the kids know me, and in a lot of ways I'm already a part of their family.

The weekend going into that retreat wasn't the easiest. I was weighed down with anxieties about the future, and the night before my birthday was sleepless as B and I struggled to work through the wall between us.

Those feelings came with me on retreat. And later they came tumbling out of me in a great heap in Confession. I was so worn down, emotionally and physically, that for the first two minutes I sat and cried.

Father, bless him, let me cry. When I calmed, he looked at me hard for a minute, not saying anything. Then:

"Listen to me. Don't ever tell me that you don't belong here. This is your calling. You are needed. You were created for this. And I don't want you saying otherwise in front of me ever again. Do you understand?"

I was startled by his sternness, but the tough love also shook me out of my bubble of worry. We were going through a growth spurt, not a catastrophe.

After Confession I staked out a comfy spot and curled up on the floor of the chapel for Adoration. We'd killed the lights and filled the little room with tiny candles. I couldn't help but be flooded with joy listening to that small group sing together to God just because they could. It was infectious.

For the first time, I was ready to leave New Jersey behind and embrace the new life I'm called to on Long Island.

But it wasn't time yet. And tonight, listening to that song again, I remember that night and my heart yearns for my almost-home.

Lent starts this week — the 40-day journey toward Easter full of contemplation, prayer and preparation. It's a tough season sometimes, but the wait makes that far-off Sunday so much sweeter.

So it is with all of life. This time of waiting and separation is making me stronger for my future husband and the people we'll serve together. God is readying my heart. And I have no doubt that when our moment finally does come, I'll be a better wife for it.