“You need to move out” the thought comes as I stare out the moving car window, hints of pink streak the sky as the setting sun hides behind a cloud. “It’s time to move on” the thought continues.
It’s been eight months since Ayla died. I went back to work, started attending the young single adult ward again, I have even tried to make friends. I feel fake, and selfishly, I don’t think people understand the faith journey I’ve already had to take at my age.
My stomach churns at the thought of trying to relate to girls my age. I sit alone at church most weeks, people are nice but I just don’t fit, I hear the talk of being used goods after you’ve been married, I’ve felt alone in those lessons about eternal families…I’m not sure if I have it in me to be pushed out of my comfort zone again.
Before I realize it, I’m picking up my phone and opening Facebook. If there’s an ad for an open room with two girls, I’ll take it as a sign that’s where I should go. I don’t expect anything though. Already I’ve moved on incredibly fast.
The first hit on the YSA page is from a girl who is a friend of my friend Chanelle. It was post an hour ago. I instantly feel my stomach settle and my shoulders relax, warmth fills my body, and I know these two girls will be my best friends.
I quickly send a message to her not expecting a reply until tomorrow. Ding. Within seconds a response pops up “it’s available still if you’re interested in coming to check it out Sunday?”
And with that I smile to myself “hey, I think I’m going to move out.” I learn forward to say to my parents. I watch as confusion floods my mom’s face. Then she nods and tells me it’s up to me if I feel like it’s right.
By now they trust me. All these years and God still sends me signs that he still cares. There’s a plan in motion that I won’t understand for another four years.
These two girls are indeed, two of my closest friends now, and because I moved in with one of them, I became part of her family and met her aunt and uncle, who in turn introduced me to my now husband.
There are days I forget the cogs that brought me here, it wasn’t chance, and it certainly wasn’t all me. It’s micro moments like the thought that brought me to move out that changed the course of my life. I never see the whole picture…but God does.
Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic, or maybe I just wanted to remember a time where I had unwavering faith. When I look back, I see all the tiny moments that God was there. If he was there for me, maybe he’s there for you.
