For many years now, Jesus has been my best friend. However, something strange happened when I left my Scotland home after 15 years and returned to the U.S., specifically to Zephyrhills, Florida.
I felt alone. My family was around me. Family I hadn’t seen in nine years. They are lovely. But, still, that quiet nagging feeling that I had been abandoned.
I knew moving back to the US after being gone for so long would be difficult. It would mean starting all over again. It would almost be like coming as an immigrant with nothing to bring except a dog, a computer, and one suitcase. And the computer was 15 years old.
Everything seemed impossible. I needed to get my computer up and running, but it would not accept the US internet connection.
I needed to get a bank account, get my Social Security switched from the UK to the US, and get a driver’s license. I couldn’t do any of that because I couldn’t prove my identity.
Yes, I had my passport, but to get a bank account, or get the Social Security switched, or get a driver’s license—I needed two pieces of mail that came to me at my new address in Florida. Moreover, I was told that because my current driver’s license was from the UK, I would need to take both the written and the driving part of the exam to get my driver’s license.
The worst part? I discovered that where I am living with my brother is too far away to walk anywhere. It is so far from grocery stores and other places that I am totally dependent on my sister for transportation. If she can’t come some day or if her car breaks down—I am stuck. Helpless.
The US is huge. Florida is huge. After living in Dunoon, Scotland, and never driving across the water—Zephyrhills is huge with busy crowded roads and rushing traffic. There is a McDonald’s within walking distance of our house, but it is across the road on one of the busiest North-South roads in US, and it is too dangerous to cross on foot.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but the seeming impossibility of my situation and the need to be totally dependent on other people after having been the decision-maker and caretaker for so many years in Scotland, devastated me. It made me feel as if God had moved away from me. As if He, too, had abandoned me.
Of course He hadn’t. It wasn’t God who had moved. It was me. I let pride do the talking. Texas is home, but I’ve always loved Florida; the palm trees, Spanish moss, lizards, frogs, other wildlife, tropical flowers. And I love my family. But I did not love feeling helpless and dependent on them when I’ve been the one in control for most of my life starting with raising Luke as a single parent.
More to my shame, I did not recognize or admit my pride at first. It took a while for the truth to hit. When I finally admitted my sin of pride to Jesus and accepted His forgiveness, I found peace in my new home. God had never left me. I had never been alone or abandoned. When I let go and let God—amazing things happened. Suddenly, I got a new computer and got it hooked up to the internet. I got a bank account, got my Social Security payments switched to the new bank account, and got my driver’s license—without needing to take the exam! Now I’m looking at used vehicles.
The problem wasn’t God. It was me. He didn’t move away. I did.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5
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