From the time I was eight my family fostered. My baby sister (who isn't really a baby since she is 25) was the first baby we brought into our home. Some children were in our home briefly, others have remained part of our lives. When I close my eyes I can still picture these kids who felt like my siblings. Who were part of our family, no matter how briefly they were in our lives. One baby stands out right now. She was a sweetheart, and my family wanted to adopt her, but she was placed in her home community instead. This happened my first year out of high school. My family was preparing to move from Prince George to Dawson Creek. I had one semester of university under my belt, but was taking a break to do a semester of Bible College during the transition time of my family's move. I had started at the Bible college and can remember standing in church one Sunday. We started to sing the song "Blessed Be Your Name" and I just started to cry. I had never really experience grief before, but that Sunday was the beginning of my grieving process as I learned to deal with the loss of this baby from our lives.
The reason I share this is because this last Sunday at church we sung "Blessed Be Your Name" again. It got me thinking about my most recent post and about my old wounds of rejection and insecurity. It was honestly like God looked at me and said, "I see you, Jessica." I have spent a chunk of my life feeling like I went unseen. I know this is untrue, but this was all part of that lie of rejection and of not being good enough. And as I was praying and bringing these old wounds to God, He let me know He saw me. He used the same song He used to comfort me in my grief fifteen years ago to remind me in the present that He sees me. To remind me that no matter my circumstances or thoughts or emotions, He is still God. He is still good. And He still sees me and knows me.
It is an amazing thing to be truly known. When someone understands what makes you tick. What excites you. What frustrates you. What makes you you.
I have found this period of my life a bit trying when it comes to regular devotions. Part of that is because it is hard to find a solid chunk of time where I can sit down, read my Bible coherently and without interruption, and then focus on it. But what has amazed me is that God hasn't given up on me. He knows me and has found other ways to speak to me. When I was on mat leave I started reading Little Women (great book... strongly recommend it). It wasn't long before I was underlining my fiction novel because vast chunks of it were speaking to me. Were challenging me. Were making me reevaluate my life and how I was living. Were drawing me closer to God. Other times it is through experiences with my kids. When Anson has a complete meltdown and I find my heart overwhelmed with compassion and love for him, it gives me the slightest indication of how God must feel during my own meltdowns. Other times it will be through an instance like this Sunday where the song selection was such that I was again reminded that God is present in the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And so I have spent this week resting (truly resting) in the knowledge that I am seen and I am known. That the God who created me knows my hopes and my struggles, and that He remains steady and constant and good through them all.
