This week I took a trip with my youngest son to Chattanooga. We left in 2022 and haven’t visited in over two years. On Wednesday, we flew into Chattanooga’s delightful little airport which has added two gates since we left. We rented a car and headed for the mountain. The trek up was a reminder of how insane it is that all three of our sons learned to drive there. The margin for error is tiny — the slightest mistake could be deadly. Many of the roads are dangerously narrow, the guardrails absurdly flimsy. But dang is it charming! We drove by our old house and it looks prettier than ever. The snow from that morning stuck peacefully to the trees, and having not seen snow in years, it looked downright magical. And I was able to connect with a few friends, too. A beautiful place with wonderful people. Mostly.

It would be a lie to say that our departure from Chattanooga was 100% joyful. There were some aspects that were really hard. It’s weird to know people have it out for you. And that’s an understatement! The malice, the lies, the downright evil — it’s surprising and disconcerting. We are such easygoing people. It is jarring to know people are genuinely committed to your demise. It often felt like an overwrought drama. I mean, “C’mon. You are overreacting!” Yet unbelievably, it was real life.

Thankfully, what others may have meant for evil, God has meant for good. Despite the efforts of others to destroy us, we landed at the beach. We have had the sweetest three years as a Jackson trio. I can see how God has specifically blessed us in ways we would not have imagined. I did not know I needed this slower-paced season. But the rhythm of often seeing both the sunrise and sunset and getting a mega dose of Vitamin D on the daily has been a gift.

Yesterday I saw this quote from Charles Spurgeon:

We are too prone to engrave our trials in marble and write our blessings in sand.

Do you engrave your trials in marble and record your blessings in sand? I think the temptation is to memorialize how we’ve been wronged in granite, with the font of a chainsaw. But the older I get the more I am convinced that the trials– even those that cut the deepest and are hardest to understand — need to be as erasable as my footprints in the sand. Bitterness longs for permanence. But grace is more like high tide, wiping the slate clean a minimum of twice a day.

We need to record the blessings with a sharpie, but the trials in expo dry erase. We need to understand that all of it will be used for our good and God’s glory. In fact, remembering the trials at all should be for the sole purpose of building our faith –God was faithful in that season and He does not change.

I’ve been mediating on these words from Colossians:

“Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.” (4:2). My brief visit to Chattanooga this week filled me with such thanksgiving for so many blessings of our time there. Perhaps you too could benefit from revisiting a season that was not 100% wonderful and let the ceaseless tide of grace wash over the pain. You may walk away with a renewed sense of gratitude for the blessings.

With Love,

Kristie

P.S. The picture above is from a spot I used to walk to regularly. From that vantage point I could see the boys’ school and my husband’s work. I would often pray for them as I took in this amazing view. But I can guarantee I never walked there when it was less than 30 degrees. But maybe the cold air makes the view even crisper. It was well worth the brisk walk from the rental car!