On the calendar in ink

I finally got a confirmation call this morning that my first "practice" treatment will be this Friday afternoon at 1pm.  From then on, my treatments will be Monday-Friday at 6:45PM.  I tear up pretty easily these days and then I have to talk myself out of it.  My first reaction wasn't a good one, imagining missing the glorious spring evenings and the fun laughter we have at dinner while I am in a giant hard plastic bubble with my mask on.  But my rational brain kicked in and reminded me that this means Paul can be with me and drive me and that I can be out and about during the day time and that when my family and friends are here we can go an do fun touristy things during the day as I have energy.  I'll probably miss most bedtimes for the next six weeks but my kids are getting older and they can stay up later. I'm sure I can go in when I get home and snuggle with them.  I know in my logical brain (wait, is that part still there?!) that it will all work out.

Throughout lent my daily devotions have been from the book of Lamentations.  It's not a place most Christians spend a lot of time because it isn't full of grace and mercy and it isn't full of Jesus.  It's mostly fully of angry people who feel abandoned and complain a lot.

For the record, I don't feel abandoned... at all.  I don't feel angry at God.  When I get wrapped up in my feelings, I ask mostly for God's protection and healing and hope.  I ask for fear to be cast out.  I ask for the things I know to be true to be my focus and my reality.  The last thing I want is for people to think that I sit around morbidly and cry all day.   Certainly I cry, but usually it is in brief little moments and then something amazing happens and I am once again full of joy and laughter.

Todays devotion was particularly humbling for me and timely.

Some excerpts:



(from the author....not me!)

Actually for clarity's sake, the rest of this is from the author (in italics) of the devotion and I just underlined what resonates with me.

I recently learned that I’m pregnant. It’s my fourth pregnancy, our fifth child, and yet only one of our children lives on earth. This pregnancy was a surprise, but even more surprising have been the emotions I feel toward God right now. I know He loves me, but I find myself wondering. Like the writer of Lamentations, I’m standing in the wreckage of what could have been, but isn’t—and I’m questioning aloud if God is here.

“If you let this child die, I will never forgive you. Never believe in you again. How can you claim you are sovereign if you continually let this happen to us?”

So my prayers are weak and unbelieving. Distant. Filtered. 

What resonated with me.....

I avoid confessing my anger and my hurt. My own sinfulness delights in this withdrawal from God to near silence. Filtering my prayers and pleas, my hopes and fears, means allowing my human nature to take back over. Not bringing my true emotions into the light is just another way of delaying what I know I need to do.

I need to repent. Even here in this moment— especially here. I am angry (my words)... that this is all a reality for me or for anyone. 

 I know He hears me. And I know He is here.

So like the poet, I turn back to God with all of me—even the angry, confused and weary parts.

“Let us search out and examine our ways,and turn back to the Lord.Let us lift up our hearts and our handsto God in heaven”- Lamentations 3:40-41

Sometimes, it’s just all we have left to wearily “lift our hearts and our hands to God in heaven.” We all are sinners, regardless of the circumstances we’re walking through. We live in a broken world where awful things happen, and we don’t get to choose what happens to us. But the choice we have is this: what we will do when we realize how much God loves us? 

Do we love someone simply because they save us from the uncomfortable?

Does our Lord love us this way?

Paul reminds us how to strengthen our faith and turn to God in times of trial:

“… ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

- 2 Corinthians 12: 7-9

Paul pleads with the Lord. He keeps bringing his pain back to God—not hiding it from Him—so that God can administer grace once more.

 I don’t need to draw lines, set boundaries, or attempt to control any outcome. I need to repent of these things, allowing the Holy Spirit to bend my will to the Lord’s. Knowing my Savior also suffered, I accept His perfect “grace upon grace” in the midst of the chaos and confusion we will all experience.

Our pain and our emotions are real, but so is our God. His grace is enough.

“Prayer is the breath of the new man, drawing in the air of mercy in petitions, and returning it in praises; it proves and maintains the spiritual life.”- Matthew Henry

See, my little emotional rant is over and I can calmly remind myself of God's mercy and steadfast love.  I can remind myself that I am never alone and that I know that God hears all of you and hears me and knows exactly what I need.  

So on Friday, I'll practice.  On Monday I'll begin.  And I'll list the millions of things to be thankful for and know, please know, that your names are all on my long, long list...