Anna and I recently had the chance to retreat from the busyness of Seattle to stay at a friend’s lake house in Chelan (maybe a 3 and a half hour drive east of Seattle). We’re actually still here! Or there? We’re currently in Chelan as I write these words in my journal to later hopefully post.

Oh man, there is actually sun here east of the Cascades! I can’t remember the last time I had hours of uninterrupted sun on my skin—and neither can my skin for that matter, as it is now slightly pink…

gabba gabba hey

Our time here in the quiet has been refreshing; we’ve had space to reflect on the recent past, and our hopes for the future.

We’ve expressed many times to friends and family that we want to go back overseas, but we still find ourselves very much here with little specifics of when this could happen, or what it would look like.

We tried investigating a couple of things here and there, only to find that the answer appeared to be “no.”

yay sun

Not surprisingly enough, we found ourselves discouraged numerous times with every “not this way”—and I’ve found myself even more frustrated with wrist pain caused by overuse at work. Feelings of “where are you Jesus?” have been our modus operandi the past couple of months.

I would often listen to Kings Kaleidoscope’s song “A Prayer,” and be moved to tears as these musicians put my feelings into words and melody. Give it a listen, but prepare to be potentially turned off if you don’t like f-bombs and conversations with God mixed together.

But in the same way that the song ends in redemptive themes, I have also somehow been encouraged through these confusing times.

Anna and I’s premarital counselors—and close friends, it’s their house we’re currently staying at—recently spoke wisdom into our lives, that this is how life works. You ask God questions, you try going one way because you think maybe it’s what you’re supposed to do, and then you find the timing isn’t right, or it just plain doesn’t work out.

I’ve found that there is beauty in trying to find “the way” and being redirected.

Don’t get me wrong, more often than not I don’t have the eyes to recognize this as beauty—there is often feelings of hopelessness.

But every once in a while, like now in this sunny lake town, I do see the beauty—and so I must write about it so I can remember later!

These confusing times are good because we can remind ourselves to once again let go of control. “It’s in the seasons of silence from God that we must trust God’s character, and remember how He has come through for us in the past,” is what our mentors reminded us.

One of the views from work

Trust that He is good, and that He has a plan when it doesn’t feel like He’s giving much direction.

So I’ll end with a challenge like any “good” blogger should (at least that’s what World Race staff told me I should do, but they never even made me a featured racer, so what do they know anyway?). In the times of silence with God, are you remembering how He has come through for you in the past? It’s not necessarily an instant fix for me, but it has helped me build my trust in moments of grief and anger.

I hope that soon I can write once I’m on “the other side” of these current situations, but for now I seek to encourage while being in the midst of trials with no clear end in sight.