The sun is shining brightly here in Bedford today, which is a nice change. That song by The Doors, Waiting for the Sun, is running through my head. Even though it's there outside, metaphorically I still feel like I'm waiting for it. It's been a rough few months. Leaving California in August was so hard. I miss my family too much to bear sometimes. And then shortly after we got home Will died. The grief of that mixed with the worry and the sadness at being too far away from our friends overwhelms me at times. And we moved, which was a good change, but hard work. And on top of that I've been going through progesterone poisoning with this baby. I'm so thankful to be able to get pregnant and have healthy babies, but I can't help not liking the first couple of months of feeling sick all the time. There's a lot of good in my life, and there's a lot of sadness too. Right now I feel like the sadness is winning out over the good, and then I think, "You ungrateful git."
In the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film, Violet's mother goes with her to the factory, and she says to her "Eye on the prize, Violet. Eye on the prize." And isn't that really what Paul says to the Corinthians? Keep running the race. So, I'm wondering, What is the prize? What is it that I'm running for. Jesus' triumphant return? The end of my life? The full realization of God's Kingdom? Is the prize supposed to make all the crap that I'm feeling right now just disappear? Should I be so focused on the end that none of the temporal stuff matters? How does that work?
Tim and I were talking the other night about our lives and about the emergent church and about fundamentalism, and it was one of the best talks we've ever had. But it left me feeling like maybe I've never really seen Jesus, not really. Because if I had, if I really believed to the depth of my soul that the Creator of the entire universe, the Word of God, came to the earth in the form of a baby born into a dirty cattle trough, and that He then lived to teach us how to live and then died on the cross in my place, wouldn't my life look a lot different than it does now? Wouldn't I be a lot more focused on carrying on his work and not so focused on making sure my needs and wants are met?
I feel a bit stuck. My life doesn't look the way I want it to. But I feel pretty powerless to change it. I don't really know what to do. I'm just waiting.
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3 comments:
Welcome back! I've really missed you! I check everytime I'm on the internet at home. What a nice surprise to see you back! I haven't responded to your sending your pictures so I will here! Addien is indeed gorgeous and I love Tim's name for your third beautiful child!
OH, Greta, my beautiful daughter, it makes me so sad to think that you think you might not have seen the face of Jesus! Of course you have...each time you look into the eyes of your children you see the face of Jesus. You know how He suffered when He was here as a human...and it was so He could say to us that He had suffered it all...to give us the hope that all would be well that God will wipe away all the tears. Helmut Fraund used to always say that there was no need for new things for the house or no need for anything really because the Kingdom was coming soon. God put us here to live, to tend and keep, to be reflextion of Him. I believe that He too mourns the death of Will. That Mike and Stacy are deprived of their son and Ella her brother...but some things He just chooses not to intervene in. Maybe to show the world how those wrapped in His love deal with their tragedies. I don't know of course but I have to believe that.
Greta! The prize is a lifetime supply of chocolate! Hellloooo...
Okay, bad joke. Trying to make you smile. Go eat some Cadbury's fruit and nut for me. (but only if Hattrick likes it)
I think you see Jesus when you're being Jesus. Which happens every time you wipe your child's nose, or bottom, or face; or read books to them; or refrain from giving up when one throws a temper tantrum of such magnitude that you wonder if even one thing you've ever told her has gotten through; or when you decide not to get mad at Tim when he makes a joke or lapse of judgment you're not thrilled with; or an old friend puts a long, random comment on your blog and you wish they'd just go away, but you decide not to tell them where to get off; or, etc., etc.
I don't want to be trite here. I just want to say, I think things will look up soon. Not that all of these tribulations will be gone, of course. But ... you'll feel more hope. And that just asking these questions is part of the journey, even though it feels crappy and futile. And, Jesus is with you. He's right there with you. Some may roll their eyes at me saying that, but that's true, too. Truer than you or I know.
Progesterone poisoning. What an awesome term for a miserable time. I hope you're over it VERY soon.
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