So often people ask for signs to know that God hears the cries of the heart. They walk around with a crushed spirit that misses the burning bushes below their feet or within their clutching grasp. I am no different. I cry out for the burning bush that God gave to Moses forgetting that Moses never reached the Promised Land because he grew weary and began to doubt the provisions that God has freely given. While Moses initially stood firm in his faith, conviction, and vision, time and responsibility brought Moses to the point where doubt began to creep in. With that doubt, he wanted a promise that things were going to work out. The problem with that thinking is that one sign would not been enough. There would be more cries for signs and proof of the prayer answered. I know because I am Moses.

In the middle of the storm, I fought for breath and for light. I couldn’t miss the signs. On June 24, 2011, I got Phil’s autopsy photos and report. I felt like my heart shattered. I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in the blankets as I sobbed. I didn’t question my faith, but I did wonder why Phil and why not me. As darkness consumed me I felt a jolt and a picture of me standing at an altar in front of a minister with someone consumed me. I was horrified. I dismissed what I saw and continued with the groans of my heart. I felt a bigger jolt and the same scene filled my again. I was terrified. I leapt out of bed and fell in the blankets. As I lay on the floor crying and afraid, I looked up. I saw a complete double rainbow and I knew, I just knew that God was giving me a promise.

Throughout some of my darkest times, there have been other signs to blaze the night away. Once, when I was working with people that just didn’t understand, nor did they want friendship, I trudged up to the front door of my facility at 0530. I couldn’t open the front door. When I looked down there were pennies everywhere. More than 180 pennies covered the ground. I began to laugh at the spark that God had sent to remind me of his provisions.

Yet, three and a half years out, I want more signs, more glimpses. I want big undeniable signs. I often forget how many signs I have been given. I have more than I need. I was given a job that nobody thought would open here on this base and I work for incredible people. My house sold quickly and fairly. I am on base and things are working out. The problem? The more I get, the more I want. I want the magic mirror that can show me my future because I have grown weary of waiting. Waiting for what? I don’t know, but I do know that when I was one year out I told my minister that I was waiting for God to bless my life like he had blessed Job’s life. The look on Chaplain Pundt’s face was priceless. He told me that he had always wondered about Job because while Job did indeed find happiness again, and while Job was indeed blessed again, people are not replaceable.

That simple conversation literally shifted my paradigms. I need to be able to weather the storms, keep my faith, and trust that God is enough. He is enough even if this is all there is. I am working on keeping my heart available to the God winks or the signs that all is well. My burning bushes are there. I just often miss them because I am busy looking for what I think are signs or asking for bigger signs. I am going to try to pause and reflect on my many blessings and signs because daily they come. My prisms need to shift because I know, I really know who has orchestrated my life. There is nothing I have done on my own and I really do not need to be swallowed by a whale to know that the signs are all around me. I just need to watch and wait with hope.

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