I thought that much of the battle had already been fought. That upon moving to Seattle I would finally see some of the relief I was longing for after three years of fighting through pain and disappointment.
As I look back over the past three years, they in themselves were a trying time. Fighting through anxiety, moving back to California to do so, trusting God through a stressful job I loathed despite the countless hours applying to and interviewing for others. Dealing with chronic pain, going to therapy.
By the time I had begun to be led by the Holy Spirit in writing and revising my book, and painting my Healing collection, I believed I was well on the way to breakthrough. In moving to Seattle, I thought--there! That has to be it.
Since I got here six weeks ago, I have been met with intense physical challenges, Navigating a new, hilly city and beginning grad school on one foot. The pain that comes with being off center and relying on one half of your body for ten weeks. Moving away from family, friends, and a relationship. Intense sinus issues, pain and pressure. All while not being able to work out.
One of the first things I did in establishing myself in Seattle was to find a local Pho place. The Vietnamese beef noodle soup is not only delicious, filled with basil and cilantro and lime, and other yummy deliciousness, but it is the most soothing, filling and appetizing soup you'll find west of Gumbo.
When my Dad was sick in the hospital, his body reeling in ICU from cardiac arrest, Pho was what my cousin Lincoln brought to the hospital for our family. In a time when the last thing that we wanted was food but it was an essential thing we needed, Pho soothed us that first night at home. In the midst of our most nauseating time, it stayed down. It was a gift to us that we didn't even know that we needed.
In a time where I thought the breakthrough I was looking for would have come already, I find myself grateful for this familiar, comforting soup.
The other day I lost an earring, and realized I had done so after returning home from a long day of school. It was a beautiful, little special something from a special time in my life. I mentioned as much to my housemate that night and went to bed. The next day I was off to school, moving through a busy day of school projects and assignments due. Towards the end of the day, I plopped down on a sofa to talk to a new friend. As I listened to her, I cast my hand to my side and something so delicately ROLLED INTO MY HAND!
I looked down and wouldn't you know it was the mate to the earring which I'd lost the day before.
As my housemate exclaimed later that night as I relayed to her the tiny miracle, it was "as if (God) were saying ,"You are where you are supposed to be."
Despite all of the Pho eaten, pain endured, and unanswered questions, I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.