​I spent a week writing my last blog post, all the while feeling so confident in the Lord and so at peace with His provisions and faithfulness to us. On the day I was just about ready to post my draft, we found out about the issues we were having with our visa and the potential negative implications for us. Frankly, it didn’t much phase me at the time. It felt slightly overwhelming, but I very much trusted that the Lord would guide us - just like I had written in my post. Plus we have experienced such a tremendous outpouring of love, support, and prayers from the Body of Christ that I felt encouraged to solicit prayers from everyone. We didn’t know how it was going to work out, but we just knew it would. Laughingly, we even mentioned what a shame it would be if we had to leave the country for a week to await our visas while celebrating the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation and Oktoberfest in Germany!
 
And then the next morning, I had this thought: “I’m 28 weeks pregnant! If we have to wait another four weeks to find out if we have to leave the country, I will be 32 weeks pregnant.” From that simple mathematical review, my anxiety immediately spiraled. Slowly at first. Just the first worrying seed planted in my heart. And in less than 24 hours from typing my very truthful, confident reflections on all the many, many ways the Lord has been merciful to us, I spent the rest of the day pendulum swinging between intense anxiety, feelings of guilt for my utter lack of faith, reviews of God’s promises and provisions, and attempts to take control and plan out all the different “what-if” contingencies. 

This is my kitchen window. Across the street are our neighbors whose houses all back up to the big fence-less pasture, so they all have livestock. From this kitchen window, and our dining room back doors, we can see between the two houses and past the light pole to the mountainside beyond. Each morning as we're eating breakfast we watch flocks of sheep slowly meander through our small sight line from left to right, always herded by sheep dogs and shepherds. We watch for them each morning, and we often get to watch them return home from right to left in the evening. After seven weeks, we have yet to get tired of the beautiful sight. 

This particular morning while I was making breakfast, I saw the sheep right on time. Yet today it was raining. Actually, it was pouring. And it's cold. The lightning left streaks in the sky, and the thunder reverberated between the mountains. Instead of their normal route along the open pasture, all the sheep were walking underneath the treeline, trying desperately - and in vain - to find some kind of protection and stay dry. Even for animals used to being outside, they were attempting to take shelter any way they could. I thought about how miserable it must be to be out there right then. In the cold and in the rain. And then, I noticed the shepherd. And his sheep dogs. Just like always, steering the sheep safely to where they need to go.