About a month ago, I was woken up from a deep sleep, the kind where you are instantly awake and aware of your surroundings. As if a piece of paper had been slipped under the doorframe of my mind, I saw and heard the word, “preserve.” It was clear, black type on white, distinct and crisp. As if my heart already knew I would need to recall this later, I pulled out my phone and entered the word into the notes section, sure I would forget the word by morning. 

Post training camp, I was used to the supernatural personality of God. Being woken up in the middle of the night to a word from Him didn’t feel spooky or strange, though just a few years ago it sure would have. Open handed and open minded, this word caught me in a state of pleasant surprise that God would want to communicate with me in this way.  

The next morning, I woke up remembering my middle of the night exchange with God and had already forgotten the word. I still find it significant that I was alert enough to think to write it down. Thank goodness. 

What does it mean, God? 

What are you trying to tell me? 

And why can’t I get the image of Strawberry Jam out of my head? 

And so like any lover of words does, I sat on it. I thought about it. I wondered. I curiously explored the library in my mind to figure out if that word was specific to me.  

A few days later, I was sitting on the floor of my living room with three dear friends who I used to meet with on Thursdays to pray at 6 am. I’m the kind of gal that needs accountability and this weekly morning meeting did so much good for me. I shared my word with them and we began to pray. 

Sweet Abby. Always open to the exploration of what God puts on her heart. She lovingly suggested that God could be telling me to preserve the time I have left before I leave. Keep it. Hold it. Cherish the small moments and the slow ones too. Don’t wish away the calm and the quiet.  

Without question, I felt like God was speaking to me through Abby. He knows I have logged hours of time worrying about missing time with my people next year. Oh have I worried and worried about worrying. How do I spend the time I want to and need to with everyone I want to and need to?  

You see, God delivered big about three years ago. I had been following Christ for about a year but I was ready to make the big scary change of stepping out and believing that God had a family for me beyond our earthly definitions. This community and friendship he speaks about in Acts is real right?  

I began to pray for beautiful relationships, for plans, for heart connections, for family. And then I began to do. Great couple, those two.  

So……It was the awkward “Hey! Do you want to get together?” Quite quickly followed by “Do you want to be REAL friends.”  

It’s not easy putting yourself out there, asking for friendship or hunting down the people you want in your tribe, but I know that the kind of friends who will help you move furniture at midnight or hold your hand in a photo or make you dinner when you haven’t eaten because they know you forget to care for yourself sometimes, are the kind of friends worth hunting.  

I just couldn’t settle for “Let’s do lunch” or “Let’s get coffee.” I wanted more. I wanted sisterhood and brotherhood and doing life alongside people who let you see their hearts, hair down, guard down, eyes up.  

So I dreamt.  

That I would meet people with big, wild, creative hearts and good taste in music. That there were people that liked what I liked and weren’t trying to rip off the torn pieces of my personality but rather see me for where I came from and all the hard lines that created compassion. That there were friends that would stay out all night dancing and tapping their feet to live music. Friends that would cook and play and sing in the kitchen while preparing a candle-lit dinner. Friends with new passions, new disciplines, new loves for arts I haven’t know. Friends with eyes for design and hearts for the enneagram who would attack the finer points of life under string lights on a patio over wine. Friends who would pray the big prayers, get lost in it, remind me of the love of my Father and the spectacular nature of the Kingdom at hand while sprawled out on the living room rug. Friends that share their little children and let me explore a Mother’s love for a minute. Friends that brew tea, friends with style. Friends who push and love and accept and give knowing glances and share tiny moments that make me feel seen and make them feel found.  

I needed church. Not the kind that you visit on Sunday but rather the kind that visits you. I needed a group of believers who asked, who cared, who showed up, who wanted relationship and wanted to do life with me. I needed them and I wanted them and I believed that God wanted that for me too.  

And it turns out He did. Like a flock of birds, and one by one, my prayers were answered and I swear, every memory I made, every new person who stretched the limits of my heart was a love letter from my Father. He heard me. And something else I like to think about? He heard them too. And each new friendship was an answer to a personal soul cry and a puzzle God put together just for us.  

Is there anything more tender?  

Abby’s definition of preserve was enough for me. I loved it. I was satisfied. The Lord was confirming that it was ok to spend the sweet, slow time with my people and preserve it just for them. He was allowing me to rest in and enjoy the people he had curated for me over the past three years.  

But he wasn’t done with my middle of the night word yet. There was more to unveil.  

I couldn’t help it. Like a child unsatisfied with my good gifts, I became a little frustrated and confused with God. Lord, why did you shower me with the best people I’ve ever known, my favorite friends, a family, and then ask me to leave the country? It seems a little like a tease to pick me from my flower field right now.  

Self-righteously standing on this idea of being teased and ready to explore why God would test me like this, I brought this thought to my pre-mission field counselor. “Let’s dig in,” I said.  

My counselor is kind. Positive. Knowing. Patient. And best of all, connected to the Holy Spirit. And like a download straight from heaven she began to explain a concept that would become a thematic weaving peace and calm into my anxiety about leaving my people.  

She told me that as children grow up in healthy homes, they develop “secure attachments.” Their families become safe hubs for them and the healthier they are, the more likely they are to explore their boundaries. Little ones start by playing in another room and older ones wander further from home on their neighborhood bike ride. They do this because they aren’t afraid of it disappearing. They aren’t afraid of being left or forgotten. They know their people will be there when they come back.  

And just like that, it made sense.  

The Lord has given me a secure base and though the boundary will be extended in distance and length of time, beyond what is usual, he knows I will need every single person when I come back. So he’s showing me now. He’s showering his love on me through his people. He’s saying “They’ll be here for you when you come home. I will preserve each and every one of these relationships for you and just like Strawberry Jam, when you lift the lid and open them back up, they’ll be sweeter than ever before.”  

Don’t you see? The Lord intimately knows us. He anticipates and plans against our fears before we even recognize them. He is protection and encouragement and love and he’s already planning to provide for my every emotional need when I return. And another thing? He’s planning to fill in the heart spaces for my friends back at home, too, in their own personal and prescribed ways.  

That’s our Father. Unbelieveable. Beautiful.  

So I’ll go and I’ll know that all the work we did falling in love with one another will be preserved, friends.  

I have enjoyed each and every moment with you. I have treasured your encouragement, your prayers and your confidence in what God has done in and through me. You, too, are part of this Kingdom journey and you contribute in how you love me, because some of us are sent and some of us are called to stay. Some of us go and some of us become the secure base.  

So you, my sweets. You ARE my strawberry jam.