Lessons from the Desert

Surprise, surprise. Even though I gave up blogging nearly two years ago, I should have known that something would draw me back. Writing has always been a constant in my life, but reflective writing is something I all too often find excuses not to make time for. Don't be fooled. I'm under no illusion this blogging will follow a regular pattern, but I do hope to make more time for it. I've decided to give myself the gift of a summer filled with healing and learning to more fully love myself and this beautiful earth filled with beautiful people. Writing seems to be a most excellent companion for that kind of journey.

I've spent the past 8 months living in the desert. Literally. For those of y'all who don't know, west Texas is a desert. When I decided to pursue my PhD, I made a commitment to staying in Texas because I wanted to stay in the same state as my family, but man...sometimes it feels like I'm more than just a few highways away from the north Texas life I used to know with plenty of rain, humidity, traffic, and skyscrapers. Life loves to throw us curve balls, and expectations have a way of getting in the way of reality. I have to smile when I think of how many times I have probably made God shake his head and laugh a big belly laugh during this past year. Ask anyone who knows me well...I am stubborn. I like to have a game plan, and I like to think that planning ahead can resolve most problems. This year brought me a lot of experiences I couldn't have planned on happening, but in the end, they have made me more fully human, more humble, more alive, and more trusting of God's plan for me.

So let's talk about this desert business. I have spent the past few months whining about how much I miss thunderstorms and that there's a disappointingly tiny amount of greenery and wildflowers. While I was on a rocky hike today around the Lubbock Lake Landmark, it hit me. Bam. I've always had an appreciation for dessert, but I'm humbly learning to appreciate the desert (see what I did there?). It took me 8 months, but I've finally learned to see the humble beauty in west Texas. You see, the desert isn't pretentious. The desert doesn't put on airs, trying to be beautiful, sandy beaches or whispy clouds crowning mountain peaks. The desert is what she is, and if you look hard enough, you find reminders of how God has created beauty in the most unexpected of places. There are jackrabbits with their powerful hind legs and graceful leaps, patches of wildflowers hiding amidst the cracked earth and yellowing grass, and yellow bellied birds with sweet songs to sing. Sunset is the time when the west Texas desert reveals all her true beauty in a way that's impossible to ignore, but the rest of the time, you have to be patiently mindful. If you aren't mindful, your eye will glance over the brown and yellow landscape and your nose will wrinkle with disdain. Be patient, and you'll realize that life is happening out there. Even tumble weeds can be kind of exciting because it means that the wind currents are blowing, which always reminds me that the Holy Spirit is at work in ways we can't see.

This got me thinking about how, in many ways, the start to 2014 felt a lot like a desert to me. At times, it was really hard to see how God was working in my life, and I sometimes felt like I was wandering around without much of a game plan. I've had a lot of humble reminders that it's not my plan that matters as much as His plan and how I put it into action. After 8 months in the Lubbock wilderness (that might be a big exaggeration, but we'll go with it), I feel connected to the desert in a way that inspires me to look beyond the grandiose ways that the earth is beautiful or that I can see how God is at work. Instead, my friends, I am striving for a heart that sees beyond the obvious to see the beautiful in the broken, the doubting, and the works in progress.