A Gal Named Norma…borrowing faith (Part 1)

The day six words changed my life…

“I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found no one.” Ezekiel 22:30

Fitting that this journey started with a blog post entitled “A Man Named Bill” and comes full circle to “A Gal Named Norma”

Everyone has experienced hopelessness (if even for a moment) at one time or another. There is nothing I can share here that is entirely new to you.

We each have a rolodex of stored emotions, memories and experiences that we use to connect with one another in sympathy or even empathy when others share their story.

This is a beautiful, beautiful gift within the human experience.

Sharing…connecting.

We are unique in the depth of our ability to connect to one another on such a level.

We are set apart.

We lean on the recounting of the experiences of others to bolster our courage, push forward through the mire and press on when the going gets tough.

Our faith may waver, flicker and sputter, but when someone comes alongside us in support, our flame is fanned by even a simple squeeze on the arm, a pat on the back or a friendly smiling “you can do it!”

Whew!Back at it again…pressing on, looking forward….all is well.

But what about the times when there is no one to connect with?

How about those experiences that happen upon us during a time when there is no one around who can really empathize with our current trial because we know no one who has walked a road quite like this?

How about when our trial drags on passed its expected time frame? Way passed……and then a little further…..and still further?

I have spoken TONS on here about having faith, exercising faith and even pushing yourself beyond fear to cultivate deeper faith.

And believe me, I stand firmly behind all of those words.

But…What has happened in my life since March 16th, 2020 was unexpected and where it has led was dramatically different than I could have imagined.

So what happens when your faith doesn’t just dwindle a bit?

It isn’t just wavering?

You aren’t simply struggling to pray effectively?

Or having normal doubts?Instead, you can feel faith dying?

Wow…that_was_hard_to_write.Even harder to admit.

Without recapping our entire story (you can read about it in past posts) my husband and I live in American Samoa, a tiny island territory in the Southern Hemisphere.

On March 16th I flew to Michigan for some medical check ups and a visit with family, and he flew back to American Samoa.

Then COVID.

Our island borders closed and we have been unable to get to each other since.

I have to say that even the beginning weeks were really hard. I wasn’t feeling my best and reality had set in that a great distance separated us for the first time in over 25 years of marriage.

As the news trickled in month after month announcing extended border closures, I rallied hard to keep the faith.

Praying and verbalizing the acceptable catch phrases like “things will work out” & “all in God’s timing ” & “it could always be worse”

You know what I mean….the socially acceptable, yet often hollow, turns of phrase that amount to…well….not much.

We say them and pass them onto others when we try to feign a sense of caring, but when in reality we really don’t want to put forth much effort.

Surprisingly I was able to float by for many, many weeks on these empty little pep talks as the calendar pages flipped again and again while time itself seemed frozen.

Now, looking back, I wonder at the possibility that I may have been barely surviving on these hollow bits of shallow truths for much longer than I realized??

Days looked much the same for most of the globe. Home quarantine, empty highways, endless news reports recycling the same headlines…..like little stagnant pools, life became thick and sludgy and restlessness grew.

Eventually I reached the end of my ability to comfort the ache in my heart and my belief that God’s timing was best, all things would work out, and it could always be worse waned.

At this stage, I knew deep within that I needed to seek out the Lord in a focused, concerted way.

Quiet myself and meditate on His Word.

Feed my soul on The Bread of Life.

And call upon The One to sustain me.

The trouble was, I didn’t have the strength to admit my weakness.

Who would stand-in-the-gap between Heaven and my destruction?

I had flown back and forth to Honolulu anticipating my endlessly rescheduled flights, packing and unpacking for seat #24C on a flight that would never leave the runway.

I found myself back on the Mainland hearing the rumors of suspending flights until January 2021.

Seriously.

Calling Scott was so painful.

How could the voice of the one person on the planet that I longed to see bring pain?

Seems strange, but if you’ve ever experienced a longing this deep, you’ll recognize the pain that any partial connection brings.

It seems so counterintuitive, but there ya go.

I could no longer look at pictures of the island. Stopped opening his snapchat videos of the sandy shoreline that once served as our own private refuge. And engaged only when absolutely necessary.

More news of suspended flights.

More reports of local government wasting time and resources.

More disappointment.

I could feel my faith slipping.

I could hear my own thoughts express doubts.

I actually scoffed at the futility of my prayers.

I’ve experienced low times before.

This was different.

This was lonely, dark, & seductive.

And the worst part, I was losing the willpower to even care.

The gap grew.

Enter Norma……

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Continuing in Part 2……coming soon