My grand plans dissolved this morning as my 2 year old Elijah looked up and asked “Put the radio on?” I chose a college station and was pleasantly surprised by some Christian hip-hop as Eli donned his sister’s purple headband (all the better for dancing, I suppose) and proceeded to bust a move for a while with his Mama. He grinned and tackled quite a few snazzy routines, elbows flying as he smiled up at me. “I love my Mama,” he announced. It just doesn’t get any better than that.
We’ve been surrounded by some black clouds for a while, and I wonder how many moments I’ve missed during our latest storm. The sun is peeking through this week and I can sense the clearing coming soon. (I know that the only thing I could pray for some days was “Maranatha, Lord, come quickly ‘cause I can’t do this anymore!”) It seems distant now, though the circumstances (storm clouds) remain, I have figuratively had my basement bailed out by my sisters and neighbors in a grand display of love and hope and support that I usually partake in and rarely get to receive. My humbled heart is grateful and softened.
I cried out that I didn’t believe He’d help this time and He showed up, again. He always does. I do not understand why my heart is quieted, why the ache is lessened, why the sky isn’t falling anymore, but it is as if it has been picked up and moved to a nearby town instead of my own backyard. Not completely gone, but not constantly in my line of vision.
Where do my eyes land in the midst of my trials? On the trial? On the impossibility of human ability to change things? On despair and hand wringing? Oh, there were unmistakable moments of literal sunshine peeking through storm clouds when I took the time to look up. Some storms allow us to simply say “I can’t do this, Lord, help me.” It was all I could do. And He did. Praise His faithfulness. I pray a joyous time of Thanksgiving for you all this month.