Last night before class I dropped the boys off at Grandma’s house. Wednesdays are the days she feeds the big kids supper before youth group. Those are the long days where they leave in the morning and don’t get home until after 9. But I’m glad they have a stop in between where they can shower and eat and have a break from “the outside”. I saw Elianna while dropping them off and said, “Hey, it wasn’t 13 hours this time.”

Dad picked them up. He was back into town a little before I was done. I texted the bigger kids and said they wouldn’t have to pick the boys up. Zorro was with the boys as well and my mother-in-law had brought his kennel into the mudroom instead of the garage since it was still very cold. It was designed as a place to get dirty where my father-in-law could come in from the fields with his farm boots and farm clothes.

On the way home I felt like I was going to die for some reason. Not in that instant, but in the future. I was thinking about how I did not want to die and how I wanted to use this education to help people. I thought, “What if this was the last half of my life, like these past 20ish years?” What if these were the years that I was given to serve others and those dreams I have had have already happened. I was hit with wild, rogue tears.

These thoughts of death seem to happen in times of grief or spiritual breakthroughs. It seems to me like it happens a lot. I told God I did not want this to be my destiny or constant fear. The boys asked me to read their Bible verses to them and I almost didn’t want to because they can do it themselves. I’d already read the part about how David was dying and they were trying to get it situated so that Solomon was the next king.

The verse was 1 Chronicles 28:9, “And you. Solomon, my son, know the God of your father and serve him with a whole heart and with a willing mind, for the LORD searches all hearts and understands every plan and thought.” Whenever I read about God knowing our hearts and our thoughts, it comforts me. Like, I don’t have to explain any of myself to him. He already knows, and he can, and will do with my life what he wills.