The Pruned Gardenia, the Osprey, and the Ashes of Job

I just returned home to St. Petersburg from a beautiful European cruise through Spain, Italy, and France. Unplugging was necessary, but it left me two days behind on my reading plan. This morning, catching up in the quiet, I opened up to Job 1 through 10.

How incredibly fitting.

I remember reading the book of Job in those agonizing months right after Cash passed. Back then, it brought me a strange sense of peace. I read about this man who was entirely blameless. Even when his sons and daughters partied quite recklessly, Job faithfully offered sacrifices on their behalf to cover them.

But as I read it today, the conviction hit me differently. Job was blameless; I am not.

I gave my life to God years ago. I went to Liberty University to run track and learn journalism for Him. I let Him pick my marketing major so I could make a difference in the world. I helped start Smith Mountain Lake Christian Academy. But somewhere along the way, I fractured. The divorce happened, and I turned away from God, diving headfirst into my own selfishness during the years of my "feral 40s." I am not without blame. Yes, I lost my only son, but the heavier, more devastating realization is that Job lost his entire family.

Job's pain resonates in my bones. The sleepless nights. The sheer agony captured in Job 3:26: "I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil."

It has been fifteen years since my bankruptcy. While I know Job's story ends with a double portion of restoration, I find myself in a place where I don't even ask for the wealth back. I am completely fine if it never returns. There are mornings I wake up and, like Job, wonder why I was ever born. There are days I simply wish to die and go Home. But I know Cash's legacy is actively making a difference in people's lives. There is a Kingdom assignment here, and I will stay to finish whatever work the Lord wants me to do. My quiet time with Him every morning is the only thing I truly long for anymore.

It makes me wonder about the state of the world when I see how many people are looking forward to House of the Dragon on Sunday night more than they are looking forward to church on Sunday morning. We are so distracted.

But God is so kind to give us signs in the quiet to keep us anchored.

Before we left for Europe, the beautiful gardenia bush on our porch—the one whose scent brought us so much joy—was brutally attacked by aphids. It was dying. I took a pair of shears and pruned it down to absolute nothing. There was not a single leaf left. As I looked at the barren branches, I prayed a very simple prayer: Lord, if You can restore this bush, let it be a sign to me that You can restore me.

When I walked out onto the porch after returning from vacation, there were tiny, bright green leaves sprouting all over it. The tree that looked completely dead now has life. It wrecked me. I thought about how the Lord has had to prune me, cutting my greatest sin—arrogance—down to nothing. I fear there is still arrogance rooted in me, but looking at those new leaves gives me profound hope.

And if that wasn't enough, as I sat down this morning, I heard it. The distinct call of an osprey. I walked out to look over the ledge, and there it was, perched right under me. A bird as majestic as an eagle, right beneath my feet.

The osprey is the mascot of Smith Mountain Lake Christian Academy.

What other signs do I possibly need from the Lord that He is with me? What else could I demand to know that I am exactly where I need to be, doing His will? He has given me everything I need—my sleep is returning, my strength is holding, and the signs of His grace are sitting right on my balcony. I have not always taken full advantage of His grace in the past. May I do His will every single minute of my life moving forward.