It was 3am.
The alarm went off, but it didn’t wake me. I had been awake listening to the sound of the rain for hours.
Tears filled my eyes and streamed down my face knowing that sweet husband was going to have to leave for work, and I would be left alone– in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a state that was brand new, in a muddy mess of a driveway and yard that I was certain would keep me trapped forever.
I know it might seem dramatic. But later that morning, when I called to confirm that I had gotten out okay, I could hear the relief on the other end of the line that let me know I wasn’t being entirely over the top.
We had just moved hours away from everything and everyone that we knew. In hindsight that was still very much our current reality, we stared in the face of the realization that we were pretty bold (crazy?) to move not only to somewhere entirely new, but to somewhere on the backside of nowhere that was in dire need of lots of work and settling.
We’d moved from rural. This was primitive.
And yet it was our own little diamond in the rough. We felt confident we’d made the right step, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry often the first couple of weeks as it required military grade strategy each day to plan my escape through the disaster of mud and mess that was our driveway.
There were horrible ruts. There was thick mud. There were white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. Prayers whispered. Breath held. Every single time. The thing was, I knew that it wouldn’t be like this forever. I knew the rain would stop. I knew it would get better. But in the meantime, day in and day out, would I make it through?
I could see the stress in sweet husband’s eyes. He had brought me here, and I knew he was desperate to find a solution. But we were getting rain without relief, and there seemed to be no immediate solution.
After driving through it, despite the mud and ruts, the base was hard. And one day, in preparing to leave and seeing my concern, he grabbed my shoulders and said, “I know. I know it’s a mess. But under the mud, the foundation is firm. It’s going to be okay.”
From that point on, each time I would leave, I would look at the mud and know that underneath, the foundation was hard. When I would feel my truck start to slip, I would keep calm and wait for it to catch on the hard base. I would purposefully take my mind off of the surface circumstances and put my confidence in the firm foundation.
And each and every time, I found myself resting on the firm foundation.
In life, we will often have times where circumstances are not favorable. We will be caught staring at situations that seem muddy and messy and may leave us feeling trapped. When this happens, and it is a guarantee it will, we have to be able to trust that our foundation is firm.
We must be able to put our trust in the fact that we have built a base that is strong enough to catch us when we want to slip in our current mess. We have to have done the groundwork that will ensure our safety when all that we can see looks grim.
It is only then can we hold to hope, knowing that we will stand firm despite our setbacks and that we will persevere despite our peril. So when the storms of life come along and want to leave us battered and without relief, we can rest knowing that we will not be shaken. Because no matter what we are facing on the surface, our foundation is firm.