I have been known to kick the trash can, slam the door, hurt my toe, and scream 'why me'. I'm not proud of it. I know good and well these dramatics are unproductive and even silly, especially since this kind of outburst is provoked not by real pain, real trouble, or real distress, but by short term frustration.
Real heartache does not make me shake my fist at the heavens. Real heartache, wherever and whatever it may be, makes me pray. Then, I am reminded to be thankful for every good thing I take for granted.....filling two cups of coffee at breakfast, comfortable shoes, beautiful music on the radio, challenging work with people I love. When the tribulations of life come around, I recognize my limitations, taking to heart the Scripture that assures us our entreaties are heard even when they are wordless.
"When we don't know what to pray for..." My memory is chock full of times when prayers were answered...prayers for healing, for rescue, for happiness, for safety, for good news, but when my father had a stroke and my parents' world was upended, I could not find the words to pray. We were always winging it, always trying to solve yesterday's problems, trying to wrest contentment and compassion from chaos. Health and happiness faded as spring bloomed.
But even as we grieved, God's merciful hand was easy to see. With gratitude we remembered the times we had gathered to celebrate at Redbarn. The hard choices to uproot them, to buy a house, that seemed so fruitless, upon reflection, turned to blessings as their loving family and our caring community showed patience and compassion and the best of human kindness. Until the very end of their trip from this world to the next, my mom and dad were together.... as they always had been. A final gift to them from their loving Father....and a comfort for all of us saying goodbye.
Hard times call for trust. Faith trusts in the story. And whether or not we understand the story, we are called to believe it. We will see it clearly someday.
And if not, it is still good.
Real heartache does not make me shake my fist at the heavens. Real heartache, wherever and whatever it may be, makes me pray. Then, I am reminded to be thankful for every good thing I take for granted.....filling two cups of coffee at breakfast, comfortable shoes, beautiful music on the radio, challenging work with people I love. When the tribulations of life come around, I recognize my limitations, taking to heart the Scripture that assures us our entreaties are heard even when they are wordless.
"When we don't know what to pray for..." My memory is chock full of times when prayers were answered...prayers for healing, for rescue, for happiness, for safety, for good news, but when my father had a stroke and my parents' world was upended, I could not find the words to pray. We were always winging it, always trying to solve yesterday's problems, trying to wrest contentment and compassion from chaos. Health and happiness faded as spring bloomed.
But even as we grieved, God's merciful hand was easy to see. With gratitude we remembered the times we had gathered to celebrate at Redbarn. The hard choices to uproot them, to buy a house, that seemed so fruitless, upon reflection, turned to blessings as their loving family and our caring community showed patience and compassion and the best of human kindness. Until the very end of their trip from this world to the next, my mom and dad were together.... as they always had been. A final gift to them from their loving Father....and a comfort for all of us saying goodbye.
Hard times call for trust. Faith trusts in the story. And whether or not we understand the story, we are called to believe it. We will see it clearly someday.
And if not, it is still good.
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