After the miraculous provision of our new home, we received a potted peace lily as a housewarming gift from the real estate agent. The plant boasted a single bloom but, over time, the white flower shrivelled away, and did not bloom again until this week…

Almost a year and a half later.

During this time, we have seen many ups and downs as we’ve navigated becoming a family of four, integrated into a new community, and taken entrepreneurial faith-leaps. At the beginning of this year, I even started a doctoral journey, which became the catalyst of a trying season as we balanced family, study, work, business, finances, writing, ministry…

This week, however, everything came to a head when we discovered that I needed to apply for a part time job to help with our financial situation. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about working again. I had prided myself on being a stay-at-home mum. Even more so when I figured out I could study in stolen hours and the kids still had me the majority of the time. But two to three days working? That had not been part of my plans. But that’s the funny thing about plans, they can easily become idols.

As I reluctantly opened my hands, I discovered there was a bud of possibility, and perhaps God had something different to put in my waiting palms, something different than the “ideal life” I had been holding onto with a vice-like grip.

So, I applied, and within a few days, I received a request for an interview, and another request for a casual meeting.

This change isn’t something I take lightly, it permeates every part of my life and our family life. Less time at home. Writing will be slower. Sure, our finances may grow healthier, but I don’t think that’s the point. At least, not entirely. Even if I don’t get either of these positions, I sense that it is important that I’m willing. That I’m not so set in my ways that I am not willing to follow where the Lord calls.

Something shifted this week. I went from a mother overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty, to a woman resting in the promise that He who calls me is faithful.

Sometimes, this is what needs to happen at the worship desk. I need to lay down my pen and ask, “Okay, Lord, what next?” And not just assume that I know. Or even worse, that I know best.

Because when I start to consider either of these roles, I begin to think of the benefits to my mental health and what is unique in me that I might be able to bring to the role. One role in particular has me considering how it might grow me spiritually and open doors that I didn’t know could ever be mine to even walk through…

Most importantly, these roles invite me to consider how I could bring glory to my Father in heaven in a fresh way through these opportunities.

As these desires and questions settled in my spirit this week, our peace lily bloomed. And a dear auntie and sister in Christ suggested, perhaps the plant could be renamed “Shalom Lily”. A little like Abram became Abraham, or Simon became Peter. So the peace lily can become a Shalom Lily, bringing a whole new meaning…

Shalom… a word that goes beyond peace to mean wholeness.

Yes, shalom is exactly what I wish to cultivate in this season. Even in the uncertainty. Even in the face of fear. There is shalom to be found in the surrender of our plans, as we let go and let God do immeasurably more than we could ask or even imagine.

“Shalom I leave you, My shalom I give to you; but not as the world gives! Do not let your heart be troubled or afraid.

John 14:27 TLV