There’s a subversive hope to be found in staying put. It’s a hope that says, “God isn’t finished here.” The planting of our feet on rocky ground points to something bigger than our circumstance. It’s easy for me to see God in the grandiose dreams and exhilarating beginnings, but he also wants to be found in the days of our mundane faithfulness.
I was at a prayer meeting last year with several others who work in full-time ministry. We were talking about motherhood and how hard it is to raise children without a community of support when one woman spoke up, "It's like the Bible says, 'It takes a village to raise a child.'" Everyone in the group nodded in affirmation, but all I could think was: "THAT'S NOT IN THE BIBLE."
You can imagine how concerned I became when I was randomly overtaken by a craving for orange chicken from Panda Express. The craving was so ravenous that I drove to that fake Chinese restaurant and devoured a plate of fake orange chicken with a side of fake fried rice like it was my purpose in life. That’s the moment I realized I was pregnant.