Digging Deep: My Story {Part II}

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They say age 25 is when your brain is finally developed and your rational decision making is fully functioning at last. I think that holds true for me, and more importantly, that’s the year my heart started functioning properly as well.

Year 25 was a tough one. But it was good.

It all started when I moved back to Washington state after living in Texas for six years. Micah and I had been dating long distance for awhile, and he {rightly} convinced me that we should live near each other first if we planned to get married. I was hesitant at first. I had a good life in Texas. I owned a house, had an awesome teaching and coaching job, lived near all my best friends, had a decent salary, and was involved in the church I had attended since college. Life was good. But as soon as Micah asked me to move Washington, I knew deep down it was the right thing to do.

So I moved home. Literally. I moved into my parent’s basement. I lived in my hometown. I ran into old classmates at Target. I started substitute teaching at my old high school. It was humbling in every way. The Jen who insisted on going to school out of state and prided herself on being adventurous was living in her parent’s house without any plans or direction. {Actually, I had all sorts of plans of my own about getting married and moving across the country with Micah for grad school the following year, but God slowly revealed to me that my timeline was not His timeline, so I watched my “plans” fizzle away over the course of the year.}

Micah and I worked on our relationship, and it was tough. It turns out that living in the same town and seeing each other every day is much more difficult and refining than just talking on the phone and going to fancy dates at Christmas time. As my relationship with Micah grew deeper, the ugliness of my heart started to unfold. My tendency to hide my sin and shortcomings in order to present a pretty package was revealed and I slowly started to understand that I desperately needed a Savior. I wasn’t the “good girl” I thought I was and my ability to articulate the Gospel wasn’t enough. I was a mess. I was weak. I was lost. I needed Jesus to intervene in my life and my heart…