When God Says “I Know”

The blinds are shut. The curtains are drawn. And the lights are out.

It’s cold and gray beyond the front door, with clouds that spell snow’s on the way. The leaves that were red and orange and gold not more than a week ago are now brown and fallen, and crackle into a million broken pieces under foot. The wind blows and carries them away into oblivion, leaving the trees are bare and trembling.

I’m bundled in sweat pants and fleece, huddled under blankets of feathers. My new best friend, Kleenex, (sorry Frit) is sitting on the table beside me with the cough drops and syrups close by. I’m bleary and fuzzy, but unable to sleep. And it is in times like these, when I’m left only to my thoughts, that I tend to wax philosophical.

Last weekend I was in St. George attending a women’s conference–a women’s conference run by the company I used to work for. I wasn’t nervous about going. In fact, I was really looking forward to it. I was excited to see the authors and artists I’d once marketed. But when Kenneth took to the stage and opened the conference with a song from an album I’d given months of my life to (happily and willingly), it was almost too much. And the tears fell.

Frit put her arm around me and asked if I needed to leave. No, I said. I just really loved my job … in the beginning. I really, really, loved my job. I loved the artists I worked with and the message they share was the root of my passion for so long. I just hate how it ended. And I guess it still stings.

It’s not fair, I told Heavenly Father. I know, He said.

Yes, I’m excited. And I’m happy. And I feel free. And something needed to change. I really was so dead at the end. But I’m also still angry sometimes. Really angry. And I’m still confused sometimes. I feel aimless sometimes. There’s still so much I don’t know and can’t seem to figure out. I don’t know if I’ll be ready to launch my own company by Dec. 5. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if it will work. I don’t even know if it’s the right thing.

But I’m just trying to remember, and believe, that when God says, I know, He’s also saying, I’m here.