Restless for a Reason: When God Calls You to Let Go
“Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring. ”
I will never forget the moment I saw my reflection in the hospital glass door as the paramedics rushed me toward the helicopter.
Strapped to the stretcher, I saw numerous cords running across my body and the IV pumping me with magnesium. It was the night of September 27, 2020. My high-risk pregnancy was coming to term, as my son was attempting to make his way into the world much too early.
From the very first trimester, my pregnancy had been complicated, but at 29 weeks, I felt like I was entering the home stretch…until my water broke.
As the helicopter lifted off from the dark parking lot of a rural hospital in Wray, Colorado, I had no idea how this experience would change the trajectory of my life.
Until that moment, my life had gone according to plan. I had a university-level business degree, a clear career track at the bank, a loving husband, and a healthy two-year-old son. Growing our family was part of the plan, but looking back now, I see how God was using this pregnancy to redirect me—to show me His plan.
We landed on the helicopter pad at Presbyterian St. Luke’s Hospital in uptown Denver just before midnight. The next 24 hours were terrifying and exhausting as a team of highly qualified doctors and nurses ran tests and prepared me for the possibilities ahead. The odds weren’t in my favor—I was told approximately 80% of women go into labor within 24 hours of their water breaking.
We held our breath, said our prayers, and by the grace of God, I did not go into labor that first day. The nursing staff labeled me a “PPROMer,” short for Premature Prelabor Rupture of Membranes. It was the start of what would become a month-long hospital stay on bed rest.
Creed visiting Kari in the hospital lobby in October 2020.
At that stage of pregnancy, every single day was valuable for the baby’s development, and while I was incredibly grateful to maintain the pregnancy, the isolation was hard. It was the height of COVID restrictions, and my husband was my only allowed visitor. Between taking care of our two-year-old son, Creed, and keeping up with work, his time spent at the hospital was limited.
When I asked the doctors about Creed coming to the hospital to visit me, I was told it was too risky. But if you know me, you know I’m persistent, and I kept asking. Finally, after three weeks apart, I was granted a one-hour visit. I was overjoyed to get any time at all.
Alone in that hospital room, I had plenty of time to reflect. Six months earlier, I had started feeling restless, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. My plan had always been to stay in banking—I even called myself a “lifer.” But by the spring of 2020, I started to lose my enthusiasm. Frustrated, I discussed it with a co-worker and friend, and he suggested I take some time off. It was probably just burnout, and some time off would surely cure it. So, I did.
Then the restlessness became worse.
“Why am I feeling this way?” I asked, but deep in my heart, I already knew. I knew what God was telling me, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. He was calling me to let go. To leave my career. To walk away from the bank, the people I loved, and my identity as I knew it.
You can bet I was angry at this notion. Everything I had worked so hard for; just let it go? I had worked in the banking industry since graduating college, and after ten years I was not ready to give it up. A promotion and pay raise were around the corner, and I had great relationships with staff and customers. Not to mention, we needed health insurance.
Leaving did not make sense, and you can bet most everyone told me so.
The problem is, when God puts something on your heart and asks you to be obedient, ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. The more I resisted, the more doors started closing. I would have moments where I thought, perhaps I misunderstood. Maybe He just wanted me to step back for a while, and staying was ok.
As time went on, the doors didn’t just close; they slammed shut, and it hurt.
Kari and Stan on their first day in the NICU.
At seven weeks early, my youngest son, Stan, made his debut - and on his dad’s birthday. Though premature, he weighed an even five pounds and looked nothing like a preemie. It was then the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) stay began, which fortunately only lasted a couple of weeks. Never in my life have I wanted so badly for my entire family to be under one roof. Coming home before Thanksgiving was an answered prayer, and Stan never missed a beat.
I took extra time for maternity leave before returning to work. As soon as I returned, I knew I couldn’t stay. I decided I would tell my boss and respected mentor when I saw him in person.
Then the call came.
It was one of the hardest conversations of my life. The promotion I had dreamed of, the one I had spent years working toward was finally being offered and I said no.
“Thank you for the opportunity, but I feel this position is meant for someone else,” I said with a crack in my voice.
Never in my life had I committed to that level of obedience.
Take note, I had no plan. There was no new position waiting for me. My self-employed husband did not have an insurance plan we could switch to. I was taking a leap of faith, and it was terrifying.
As scared as I was when I walked out the door on my last day, I felt peace, and I never looked back. A weight had been lifted, and it felt like I had risen to a new level in my walk with God.
In the months that followed, God began to reveal His plan for me. I was blessed with irreplaceable time on the ranch with my young boys and the opportunity to build a business I could run from home. Though I had been stubborn to leave my career, I can now say—without hesitation—it was worth it.
It just took an expensive helicopter ride and a long hospital stay to get me to let go.
If God has placed something on your heart, and it feels impossibly hard, don’t ignore it. You are restless for a reason. I can assure you that the more obedient you are, the greater His blessings will be. My encouragement to you is this: listen to your heart, not the world.
Godspeed, my friend.
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You can also read the prelude to this story here:
Strength In Weakness - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (ESV) — Rancher's Daughter
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
