Sunday, April 7, 2013
Note to self....
can't hurry recovery. You can't snap your fingers and make it better, can you? You have to surrender control, do the work that is possible, but everything else is left to simply "be" and most of the time....that takes time.
Last week, I woke up every single day thinking, "Today I am better. I will be better. I am not sick. This thermometer is surely broken. I will tell my body to be better and it will be."
And then the number registered 103 degrees and exhaustion overtook me as I realized I was wrong. It was going to take more time. I wasn't in control of how long it was going to take to recover.
It was going to take as long as it took.
And that's the truth isn't it? It takes as long as it takes. We want so badly to rush through the pain because it hurts. We don't want to be a bother and we get tired of hearing our own voices complaining yet again, because nothing in our circumstances are different. We want to be done. We want to be in the next season, or the next chapter, lessons neatly learned and then tucked away for that time we need to give some really good, empathetic advice to someone else. But real life, in all it's messy glory, is never like that. We are forced to look into the mirror and face another day that is truly intended as a gift, and often we have to fight our way though that moment just to get to the next. We'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.
Recovery takes as long as it takes. When a heart is broken or wounded. Or trust has been broken. Or dreams have been shattered. Or relationships have been strained beyond what they can bear. Or finances are smashed and there is no help from anywhere to make it better. Or when job possibility after job possibility falls through and nothing that used to make sense makes sense any more. When no end is in sight. When the tunnel is dark and tears are falling. When expectations are lost in a sea of, "it wasn't supposed to go like this..."
It's hard. Pessimism is contagious when you're in a pit, and feelings tend to look a lot more like facts in the darkness. In those moments, the one and only thing that pulls me out of the puddle of self-pity I find myself drowning in, are the concrete things I know of God because they are written right there in His word. I had to list them in my journal this weekend, and I thought you might be encouraged by the reminder of His promises too.
God has good plans for me and my future. Not plans for harm. (Jeremiah 29:11)
God loves me with an everlasting love. Not some flimsy, fickle kind of love that changes and shifts when circumstances are different, or when my hair looks good and I've lost ten pounds or I just said the exact right thing to my child and had a stellar mom-moment. (Jeremiah 31:3)
God is faithful, even when I'm not. Which is pretty much daily. AND God's compassion toward me and my circumstances never fail. NEVER. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
God is filled with great tenderness toward me, as a father for a child, and loves to give me good gifts, which is awesome since gifts are pretty much my love language. (Luke 11:11-13)
God rescues me because He delights in me. And I don't know about you, but having someone delight in you no matter how delightful you are (or are not) being is thrilling. Because I'm not always very delightful. (Psalm 18:19)
God fights for me. All He requires is that I be still in that trust of His power. (Exodus 14:14)
God is for me. (Psalm 118:6)
God longs for me to not merely exist, and hop from one life moment to the next, He longs for me to live life to the full. (John 10:10)
(Isaiah 43:2) "When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you."
No matter what you or I face this week, those are His promises and it's really all I need to know. Does that comfort you like it comforts me?