-ing

When my kids were little they used to love to play this game called “Gobey Monster.” I did not create the name, one year old Bree did. I, the Gobey Monster, would hide, and they would come searching. I would jump out and chase them saying, “Gobey Gobey Gobey!” and chase them until they would jump under the covers safe with their dad (again, this game was created by a one year old). As they grew older and still loved to play this game, I had to make it more challenging by turning lights off and hiding really well. I often let them pass by me before I would jump out from behind them and scare them. (I know what you’re thinking, I’m the reason my kids might need therapy! Lol) Oh man, I love to scare people. My poor, helpless young children. 

Healing can be this way, sneaking from out behind and completely catching us off guard. (Did that just turn dark so quickly? haha) As I was preparing to leave the school yesterday, I had gotten so much accomplished and realized I wouldn’t need to come in over the weekend to prep for the week as long as I get to school early Monday (this is a rare thing for me). I was practically bouncing when I walked out of the school with that knowledge. It was going to be a good a restful weekend! 

And then this morning hit. And the grief, and the proof that it is healing, not healed. My bounce was gone, I felt wounds reopening, and the stress of new adulting responsibilities overwhelming me. My quiet time was spent asking God why I was still dealing with these things. Why I had to do these stupid adult things, and why could I not just go live in a Hobbit Hole? (God is so very patient with me. We have these conversations a little too frequently. I would make a very good Hobbit.) I was so close to tears all morning, but had responsibilities to do. The newest thing on my plate was taking care of my lawnmower. You see, last October winterizing my lawnmower was the furtherest thing from my brain. Only until it came time to take it out, did I actually think about that. So I had to change the oil and deal with the old gas. I found videos on how to change the oil, but for the life of me couldn’t figure out how to dispose of the gas. So I did what every adult would do. Called Dad. Poor Dad, I don’t know if he could hear the tears I was trying to hide, but he walked me through my first problem. 

I went shopping returned home, put groceries away, cleaned the kitchen sat down to eat lunch and...cried. I am so tired of having to come again and again to this pain. But here is proof of that -ing. After I cried, I did not pull out junk food, I did not turn to Netflix or Social Media for mindless scrolling, trying to push down the pain. I pulled up my big girl panties, changed the oil in my lawnmower, and then...called Dad again because my problem wasn’t quite the same as I originally thought. But Dad didn’t answer, so I called Mom. She answered and then was the go between for Dad and I. Poor Dad. I hope he’s having a glass of wine tonight! I mowed my lawn today using the mower I serviced by myself (with Dad as phone support) and felt like the Biggest Boss Lady Ever! It’s the small things that make us feel that way right?

The thing is, I would love for God to decide to make me a Hobbit who lives in the very peaceful Shire (not sure what town in the Shire I would choose to live in, but I guess that’s a discussion for another time), but I have yet to find that promise of a life of ease on this earth (hint, you won't find it cause it's not there). God hasn’t called me to a life of ease. But he has called me to wait on him for strength, for courage, for rest. He has called me to trust him with the details of my life.  He calls me to trust him even knowing that the “Gobey Monster” of pain and grief will still jump out at unknown times and take me completely by surprise.

 “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young. Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust— there may yet be hope. Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him, and let him be filled with disgrace. For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭22‬-‭33‬ ‭

These words have always been such a comfort to me. Most people probably know the first 2 verses really well, but that's not where the beauty of Jeremiah's reminder to himself and to Judah ends. Suffering and pain is ugly, and dirty, it isn't fun. But, "there may yet be hope....Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love." But for me in my grieving I also find conviction in these verses. Like I hinted at earlier, I would rather push down the pain when it tries to come, but in these verses we are told to "wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord," and to " sit alone in silence," to "bury [your] face in the dust." You can't ignore your hurt. Sit in silence before the Lord with it. Wait for him. Bury your face in the dust of humility before the Lord. Deal with the pain. It's in the burying, and the silence and the waiting that our healing will come. God does not want you to suffer, he has hope for you. He has hope for me. And One Day, all of this pain will be gone, there will be no more Gobey Monsters hiding around the corner, no more new and fresh pain waiting to take us down, and he will bring us into healed. "So great is his unfailing love!"