Decisions, Decisions.

I jog through a city trail, slush from January snow soaking through the tops of my running shoes. 

“Please show me what you want me to do next.”

Decisions. Like Alice in Wonderland, deciding which door to enter and which key to use.

When only rumours of summer have started, I walk into the middle of a freshly planted field and crouch down in tears. “Please show me what to do. If you want me to do this, I’ll do it. If you want me to go there, I’ll go. Just please make it clear.”

I think the smiling interviewer across from me at Boston Pizza is, perhaps, my clarification.

But it’s really a dead-end.

I forget that dead-end signs are not stop signs. It’s simply a point where the road ends, and you have to change your mode of transportation.

And you walk past the sign, down a hill, to a beach, and swim across the lake to a mountain, and climb both sides of the mountain to a valley, and…

Summer fades into me sitting across the table from more interviewers. Three times in one week. A call from one. A call from another. A deadline. A decision.

“Please just show me what you want me to do.”

I get another call. Everything on the checklist falling into place and clarity filling my heart.

Nine months of waiting for an answer.

I accept a job.

One week later, I get another phone call and another e-mail. Other options of where I could be.

But I’m not there.

I’m here.

And God is sovereign.

Sovereign.

A fancy word that means I can’t screw up His plan.

It’s a week where anxiety flees.

Because God’s sovereignty scares away the phobia of road blocks.

Because I still don’t know anything, but I know Someone who does.

“‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish my purpose,’…I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass; I have purposed, and I will do it.” (Isaiah 46:10-11)