Waiting rooms. Oliver and I are pretty good at being in them. We've done 'em with pacifiers, bottles and baby bjorns, strollers and baggies of snacks, pulling on fingers to walk and more pacifiers, riding elevators and reading books, playing trains and playing games on my phone. Waiting. I can sort of do waiting.
But then the telling time comes, Eric walks out of the examining rooms and I'm immediately all pulled-too-tight nerves; my heart pulling on the cords of my body that react to my soul. And he says, "well, I'm sick." And I just go all quiet inside. And that's when I know I need more discipline. Because I'm not thankful.
I don't know what I am exactly and then he says, "you know, sinuses and ears....that's why everything is all off."
Oh.
I still don't really know what to say, because part of me had jumped to all those questions that start with "what", the ones that tend to fill up the quietness if we aren't diligent to let God fill us.
And then we walk to the car with a sweet boy talking about elevators, and smiling too big as he drinks from the water fountain and it dribbles out of that one-dimpled smile.
Right now, I am reading 1000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The chapter I read last night, in God's perfect timing, is vibrating through me. She writes about being thankful in all things, seeing all things as God's gifts.
(Most of what follows are really her thoughts, but I needed to work and write it out for me. I needed to let God reveal what He is saying to me in all of this, right now, in this moment.)
As I allow God to open my eyes with His Word as my "lens", I am able to not only give thanks for all, but sin's grip on my heart is released. I am able to see properly, that everything and everyone I will lose. These idols of mine go toppling. The idols of comfort can not stand even now, they certainly won't stand for eternity. And as I let go of the idols I am able to let God fill my hands and heart with thanks, with joy, with freedom.
How foolish I am to think that anything of this world is sweeter than what God wants to give me, even when I am given difficulty or pain. The things of this world can only fill me with the dust they become. Only the things of God can transfigure me, can free me. And no, the home, the clothes, the husband and child are not bad; but when they become what fills me, I warp them into ugliness and bondage. I become only how I see myself in light of those things not who I am in Christ. We are sons and daughters of God, ruler of the universe, who brought light to the darkness!
Christ, nailed to a cross, descended into the darkest of darkness and rose on Easter morning! Christ, before going to the cross, broke the bread and gave thanks, and rose to the fullest life possible!
Only with the discipline of giving thanks for all, can I truly transfigure. It is easy to be thankful for a safe home or a healthy body, but only in giving thanks for all can I truly become free from sin and joy-filled!
"...sharing in (my Son's) sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, you come to know Christ and the power of His resurrection." (Philippians 3:10)
"It is suffering that has the realest possibility to bear down and deliver grace. And grace that chooses to bear the cross of suffering overcomes that suffering."
Daily I must die to my self and what the world tries to stuff down me, daily I must give thanks to have fullest life, a joy-filled life, a transfigured life of freedom! And I can give thanks, daily in the small and beautiful things and in the hard suffering because it all has the power to transfigure!-to transfigure me more into the likeness of Christ and throw off the chains of sin. So all is a good gift from above!
And don't I know this, don't we all know this? When I have chosen to obey in simple day to day things, the joy is so much greater than what my tasks at hand really seemed capable of yielding. Choosing to be obedient with the $5, giving time to good instruction for Oliver, making a nice meal for Eric or even buying a gift for someone. I end those tasks joyful and light, not bogged down or weary. When I look back during those years made up of Winter, the joy doesn't seem rightly placed. Joy in financial struggle, deteriorating health, law books and more than a few sleepless nights. But there the joy is. God's joy smack dab in the middle of it. Joy because God gave us the ability to give thanks in the small things that aren't so small. We were able to live in a peaceful little town, under a cold blue sky, surrounded by old, worn mountains. And I didn't understand why I felt peace and happiness in those years but now I see more of His goodness towards us. He gave us incredible beauty to see and be thankful for, which filled us with a real joy and hope, and increased our endurance for confusion and discouragement. It doesn't mean that the sadness isn't sad or the pain any less real, but there is hope. Hope for the new life!
But I need discipline for when life utters, "I'm sick."
I need to say thank you for the smell of clean laundry as I walk down the stairs outside, the kind neighbor, the finished sewing, so that I can say thank you in the suffering.
And so today, I am thankful for this man's dimple.
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