I was just having a conversation with a friend last night about the Holy Spirit. We were talking about all the untapped power there is in our lives purely because we don’t fully grasp who He is. We sing of Resurrection Power, but do we really grasp the potential of that? I know I don’t. I have been trying, though, to be more in tune to His prompting and leading. I’m still a rookie at it and miss it more times than I catch it, but hey, I’m moving towards a closer relationship with Jesus, just with a lot of trips and bumps along the way.
Last week I experienced a closeness with God that I haven’t experienced in a long time. I heard the Holy Spirit’s prompting and did something about it. The end result was terrifying, crazy, difficult, and beautiful all at once. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
I have one side of my extended family in Germany. My mom grew up there and I was born there. We moved to the US when I was really little, leaving everything and everyone she knew behind. Sometimes I marvel at her courage. She barely spoke English. But that’s another story for another day.
We always remained close to our family there. My Oma (grandma) has been especially dear to me my whole life. You see, she saved me from an abusive day care and brought me home to live with her while my mom worked. My mom would come visit me on her days off. So a bond was formed between my Oma and me that was unlike any other. She has always held a precious spot in my heart. And I always cherished being able to visit her. I had always told Andrew, if she gets sick or passes, I have to go to Germany, no matter what.
Then I got the call I had always dreaded. My aunt called to let me know Oma was in the hospital and she didn’t know if Oma would make it through the night. Oh, my heart. I was a sobbing puddle on the floor and felt so paralyzed. In moments of clarity, we can say, “If this ever happens, then I have to do this.” But in the midst of heartbreak and sorrow, it’s hard to decide what we should really do.
But the Holy Spirit knew. God knew my sister and I needed to be by our Oma’s side. It’s amazing how the threat of death puts things in perspective, isn’t it. Suddenly the millions of things on the calendar didn’t matter as much as finding a way to Germany.
It’s still totally surreal. I can hardly believe what God did, even though I lived it. It’s hard to fully wrap my mind around the doors He opened, the signs He gave us, and the comfort and peace He lavished on us.
I can’t tell you all of it in one post…it’ll have to be a series. But I can tell you this. It took 29 hours to travel 4,400 miles. Three airplanes, two cars, one train, a nine hour overnight layover in London’s airport, driving on the Autobahn on two hours of sleep, pumping breastmilk in airport bathrooms, and leaving ten kids and one husband in the hands of friends and our church.
To stand by my Oma’s side. To hold her hand. To have her wake up, look at my sister and I and say, “Hallo”. To see the joy on her face knowing we were there. To hug my aunts and cousins and stand in strength with them as we faced something really hard.
I’ll never forget that moment. Ever.
I’ll never forget her face and her voice.
I’ll also never forget the overwhelming feeling of Jesus’ arms around me in that moment and His whisper, “You are right where you need to be.”
29 hours. It was exhausting, excruciating, and interminable. But I’d do it all over again for that one moment.