Maybe I should raid that medicine cabinet for some iron, I thought to myself, closing my eyes in an attempt to dial down my sudden dizziness. It felt like the whole house was moving. Then I opened my eyes again and looked up at the light fixtures on our ceiling. Wait a minute. They’re moving! Earthquake!

I launched into emergency mode. The door. Crack the door open. It’s the first thing to do. I picked up the children on my way, yelling “Earthquake!” at Chris, who barely made his way to us in the violent shaking. We split the children between ourselves, and took shelter in the sturdiest corners of the apartment while the building kept swaying for a very, very long minute. The children just stood there quiet as little mice while their eyes looked carefully for any sign of distress on our faces.

Moments later, our new neighbor ran barefoot into the hallway, tightly holding her freshly awakened and scared baby. She was alone at home that night. I invited her to come and join us. She eventually found the courage to walk toward our door while shaking and tearing up.

“I’m afraid,” she muttered.

“I know,” I whispered, trying to put on a smile. “It will be over in a second.”

For some unknown reason, I really believed that.

She stayed with us for a few more minutes after the quake stopped. We tried to keep her busy by chatting in our primitive Russian since she was not speaking Georgian or English. It was an odd time to get acquainted with a new neighbor, but we decided to feel thankful for the opportunity—a 6.2 Richter opportunity.

Our other neighbor, Louise, was equally terrified but stayed inside to guard her sleeping daughter. That night, we texted until after midnight. It was one of the deepest and most spiritual conversations we have ever had. We talked about fears, God and His care, and justice and restoration. I had prayed many times before for my now dear friend. She has been a godsend to us, and I had hoped for an opportunity to give back some of the kindness I had received. That night I went to sleep with a smile on my face. Opportunity granted.

Since then, we have been shaken many more times, although not on the Richter scale. Chris landed in the emergency room twice, and the country that we worked in for five years is now being ripped apart by a horrible war. While we feel and see pain up close more than we would like to these days, we also see unexpected turns and developing relationships.

I wish it could be different. I wish people would start knocking on our door and asking us about Jesus. I wish that heartache, tears, health issues, and uncertainty would not be necessary to strengthen our trust in God and make friendships easier. But most of the time, they are.

As the ground shifts under our feet, we are repeatedly reminded that when we pray for a breakthrough, we should expect trouble first. They often come hand in hand. But as we well know, “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” Would you join us in prayer so we will keep remembering this assurance?

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