When You Are Suffering...

Tired of this burden.
Not sure where to set it down, though.
Or how.
Or even if I'm supposed to...

I need a Savior today. Funny how salvation isn't really a one-time thing like some suppose. A one-time prayer that covers all the hard days. I need a Savior everyday.

I need a Rescuer. A Redeemer.

     Jesus saves me. Jesus saves me now.

Or so I'm told to pray.
But my hands feel to limp to fold. Tears come more readily than words.
And what to say anyway?

               I'm tired?   I'm weary with the waiting?

We always think bad things happen because of sin.

     "Why was this man born blind? Did his parents sin - or did he sin?" 

'Cause certainly somebody sinned.     Right?

I'm looking around, too. Wondering who's the culprit...  Me again?


             Am I the cause of this mess, Lord?

It's a heavy burden sometimes - my own blindness.

But what was it the Master said?
                          "This happened..."    
       This tragedy. This sorrow. This trial. This ache in my chest.
                                                "...that the Glory of God might be revealed."

What kind of plan is this?
     You're  hurting SO THAT I can heal you?


Does that even fit with my theology?


So many of the most beautiful miracles come through pain.
Even the (super)natural miracle of childbirth comes to us, riding in on waves of pain.
   It never comes with softness only. With quiet calm.
And then this little life is there, it too, letting out a cry after it breaths in it's first breath of air.

The pain leading up seems so.... unbearable.

You just want it DONE.  OVER.   You'd give anything.

But sometimes the only way up and out is through.
Like the children's book:

                   "We can't go over it.
                    We can't go under it.
                    Oh-no! We have to go
                          through it."


So glad there's a promise on the other side. Some day (the Lord knows when) I'll be done going through it.
And I'll be holding my promise in my arms.
 With joy.
With amazement. With laughter.  Feeling the moment all the deeper for having waited so long. Just to get through to that precious gift.
And it will have been WORTH it.

And isn't that the Way of the Cross?
And in my suffering I must remember - I have yet to suffer as He did.  Unto death.

I can see Him now - up ahead.
I do not travel alone on this road of suffering.

We share both in His victory and His suffering. Sometimes at the same time!
Kingdom ways are a paradox.
  Down is Up.
  Death is Life.
  and sometimes the greatest gifts are given, the greatest victories won, on the path of suffering.

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed to sow
shall come home with shouts of joy - carrying his sheaves with him." Psalm 126:6
                 

Linking up today with:

Let's Celebrate!

Perspective is such an amazing thing. You and I could both look at the same house and give a completely different description of it. How? One standing in the front, the other in the back. Same house. Different views.

And the thing is, we'd both be right.

Perspectives on life come from our experiences. These 'facts' we've come to know within ourselves. They shape our view of what's without.

Trying to explain to your kids why doing such-and-such is not good for them, why A, B and C will be the result if they continue on a certain path is often lost on these young(er) souls.

Why did God give us, the parents, the wisdom of experience, but pair us with children who don't have the slightest interest in taking advantage of it???   Exasperation!

Now my oldest children are marking their journey through the teen years (side-note: whoever coined the term 'terrible twos' must not have hit the 'terrible teens' yet, just sayin').   And the wonder and admiration I feel for my own mother grows with
                                        each
                                               passing
                                                           day.



Now I know...
      that even though she seemed 'so old' (right?) she was really just a young woman trying to figure it out.

 Like me. With each new decade of my life it's like I turn a new corner and a whole different view opens up. The things that really are absolutes solidify with each passing year.  And the things that I just thought were important are minimized, eventually fading into a faint memory of who I was.

I know now that my mama did the best she could with what she knew then.   And you know what?

 It was enough. Grace filled in the gaps.

Now I know...
      that nothing makes you ache like the pain of watching your children hurt. I'm sad for all the anguish I put her through. The sleepless nights filled with worry. Though I didn't believe it then, I know now her love ran true.

 I can see now that though I was unaware, her love was my anchor during my own turbulent 'terrible teens'.

Still her love leads on.

A lighthouse in the dark times.

A touchstone that keeps me grounded.

Now I know...
    the power of  the prayers of a faithful mother. How in her weakness she drew down strength from a heavenly source. For herself. For me. Prayers whispered in the night from my mama heard by the Father.

Who can measure the power of true prayer? Still I reap the far-reaching influence of her prayers. The ones prayed then.  The ones still prayed today.

So grateful am I....Spurred to pour out myself in prayer for my own children. Knowing that as I do

               they are being wrapped

                                        in the supernatural. 


Mother love is supernatural. Full of the self-sacrifice mirrored in the greatest Sacrifice. 


Mothers are lay-down lovers. And is there really any other kind? 


I'm thankful to have one.   Even more thankful to be one. 


Mother's Day is usually billed as a day for others to celebrate us. But really, we are the ones who should be celebrating. We are the ones who have been given the gift.

Because Motherhood is a gift.

Now go celebrate.