A Thought on a Time of Trouble

A thing has happened here, and I wondered if there was any value in blogging through it, instead of afterward, when it’s all smoothed away and the corners are tucked in.

Because later, I’ll be able to say, “Looky there, see what God did!” while right now—at this moment—I can hardly breathe, am having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, am crying a lot.

Of course, I have to fake it. I have a husband and children and a house and the laundry has to get done, and when I answer the phone I have to say “hello.”

When/if the people start calling, I have to be able to chat amiably and heroically and not give way to blubbering incoherence. I have to hang tough. And if people don’t call and don’t meet me at Starbucks, I have to take that and not start whining about how God’s people don’t help in crisis. Maybe they don’t know what to say. Maybe they know if they ask, I’ll say I’m fine, thanks.

Later, I’ll be able to say, “Well, maybe I could have done this or that,” whereas right now, I can only wake up, go through the day, and then go back to bed, knowing that whatever is happening is happening—that there isn’t anything I can do about it.

The sky has fallen in and I was the person underneath. Perhaps I could have propped it better, or differently, or longer, but I didn’t.

Of course, I could have avoided the entire situation by not trying, by not being there, by not getting involved, but I didn’t avoid then, so I can’t avoid now. I went out on the limb and it cracked under me.

That sounds awfully dramatic, doesn’t it? And yet at the same time cryptic, unclear.

The experts told me it would be risky, it might fail—it would probably fail. That doesn’t make it easier. Other experts are telling me now not to look at what I see, but to look at what God can do. And of course that is what we did all along—that is why we tried to begin with.

Because God can when we can’t. Because God takes the disqualified and qualifies them. Because God takes the weak and molds them into the strong.

So, anyway, we’re having this problem, and I have to be the Mom still. I have to be emotionally stable. I have to courageously face the day without reference to loss. Without reference to failure. Without reference to “Told you so.”

I have to cling to the fact that I am a favored, loved, graced child of God, that I can walk on this water, that I can weather this storm (no doubt getting soaked to the skin), that I can maintain myself, my focus, my responsibilities, my children’s needs without wavering, without losing faith, without losing my way.
Jesus is more than enough. His grace if sufficient in this moment.

2 thoughts on “A Thought on a Time of Trouble”

  1. I’ve no doubt that later you’ll say, “Looky there, see what God did!” But then, after reflecting on how God steered you to Proverbs 31 to read it and meditate on it and study it BEFORE your time of trouble…maybe we can say, “Looky there,” right now.
    Praying for you!

  2. Suffering
    When we are quiet and listen, we become more aware of our pain. The pain is always there – in our minds and in our bodies. Silence allows us to see it, face it and release it.
    We constantly judge ourselves. Our minds decide what our experience should or should not be – relentlessly labeling things good or bad – and demand that our lives conform to our labels. Then when pain comes into our lives – and it does to every one, with a vewngence – we not only suffer it, but we suffer our suffering as well. We add the mind’s harsh judgement of pain to our actual experience of it.
    By taking time to be quiet, we may discover the ways in which we intensify our pain by judging it. THen we have a chance to become less harsh, more forgiving.
    The pain created by our minds is stored in our bodies, creating rigid patterns of behaviour, blocking the flow of energy within us, cramping our being.
    Our harshness and our fears are embodied in out flesh. In silence, we can feel these tendencies harden – and allow then to be as they are. They may then uncramp and release, for anything that is not resisted tends of its own accord to unfold and change.
    By cultivating silence, we can find and release deeper and deeper levels of pain and so discover once again what is beneath the pain: the natural joy that is already inside us, free to rise and flow into experience!

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