On my early morning walk, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, I glanced up through a small clearing in the trees. In one quick glance I noted the sun, 2 airplanes at different elevations and going in different directions, an eagle, and a common sparrow.
I never question whether or not the sun will rise–I just look forward to basking in its warmth. When I fly, I sit back in my too-crowded airplane seat and busy myself reading a book or writing my own. I never worry about how the pilot will get me to my destination, I just trust that he will. I never get fearful those birds will drop from the sky (just maybe WHAT they will drop :).
“You’re going to be with me, right?”
A boating accident found my youngest son spending a Sunday afternoon in the emergency room. Then several weeks later, surgery was inevitable. As we sat at the dinner table the night before surgery was to take place, our son began asking questions. Up to that point, he seemed nonplussed and unconcerned. But the night before told a different story.
We had known the procedure was necessary and not elective for a couple weeks, but this was the first question my son had asked about the procedure.
I experienced it in a series of quiet moments. Walking in the front door in the morning and realizing this would not be “my place” much longer, watching the team execute with competence and compassion but realizing that it wouldn’t continue, and doing routine tasks with an unusual enjoyment but also a sense of finality. Michelle and I had made the decision together. The work was good and valuable and productive, but we both knew that the time had come for something new. It was what I had done for the last six or seven years, my professional identity. And it was ending.
Living with a psychologist I knew the symptoms: grief, loss, a temptation to negotiate an alternate ending. This was the end of a major and fulfilling part of life. A small death.
Plans had not gone as I’d hoped. I’d planned, I prayed, I did my part, and yet, I was left feeling disappointed, discouraged, and frustrated.
I don’t know if that has ever happened to you, but sometimes we pray and make the best-laid plans, only to be left wanting, unfulfilled, and discouraged. Did we hear God right? Was He even listening? Was there something blocking the answer to prayer or the fulfillment of His promises?
Have you ever felt hopeless? Have you ever longed for joy but it seemed just beyond your grasp? Have you ever wondered what role you play in receiving peace, joy, and hope for your daily life? Then let me introduce you to my sweet friend, Lauren Gaskill. Today she shares her testimony of being in that same place, and how she overcame.