Four weeks from today, Andy starts medical school.
We’ll finally get started with what we moved out here to do. I don’t know if we really even know what to expect except that it will mean that we won’t see each other as much. So right now we’re trying to make the most of all the time we get to have together.
Nevertheless, in the past few months I have been thinking about the future, the impact that Andy’s (although really I think of them as “our”) medical aspirations will have on our family. How many important events will he have to miss? Will it mean that we won’t get to move back closer to our families? If we are blessed with children, would it be better for me to stay home with them, since he will have a demanding schedule? Lots of questions that I don’t have the answers to and can’t have the answers to right now.
Then I had a perspective shift last week when I was at youth camp with the kids from our church in Wake Forest. During the evening worship service I had this overwhelming realization (that I have to attribute to the Holy Spirit because I know it didn’t come from me) that Andy isn’t mine. All of the anxious thoughts and questions that I have are coming out of a part of me that says, “Andy is my husband. Because he’s my husband, I have a right to want his attention, time, etc. in a certain way. I have a right to custom make my future, at exactly the level of Christian sacrifice I’m comfortable with.” The problem is that is an incredibly selfish way to look at things. Notice how me-centric I am.
In that moment during worship I heard God saying to me, “He’s not yours, he’s mine.” In the same sense that earthly possessions aren’t actually our own, but God’s. They are given to us to be given back to God and used for his glory. God has given Andy to me as my husband, and I should give Andy back to Him. If God is calling him to be a doctor, I should give him the support to glorify God with his life in that way. I’m not saying that a wife should have no expectations about the way she should be treated, but I am saying that when we put things into perspective, my wants and needs for Andy’s life, for our family’s life, pale in comparison to God’s desires and plans for our lives. I’m called to enable him to lead us where God would have us go, not stand in the way or go reluctantly.
Over the next four, ten, or more years, I know I will probably forget and struggle with this again, but I thought if I wrote it down it might help me remember:
I don’t know this medical journey will mean for our lives, and that’s okay,
because my life isn’t my own anyway – it’s God’s.