Sometimes, it feels like the Lord is taking a long time to come to my rescue.
The night before last, I lay awake in my bed listening to the winds of Hurricane Sandy howl and throw acorns at my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about waters rising, trees falling, winds blowing. I think I got about two hours of sleep that night.
God and I have some of our best talks on those nights when I don’t sleep and 10pm to 7am pass by with me awake and exhausted. I’m at my most vulnerable then, because I’m tired and frustrated and weak. The ground of my heart is soft and fertile and ready because I’m not defensive or busy or anything less than desperate.
We fared Sandy pretty well. Our loved ones did too. Water came close but did not flood, trees fell but not on anything of worth. Now we pray for the parts of the coast that have been so much more profoundly affected.
There’s a particular thing we’ve been asking (or some might say, nagging) the Lord about and sometimes I wonder what He’s waiting for. Doesn’t it seem sometimes like God waits until the very last moment to save the day? Things get worse and worse or harder and harder and just when you feel so stretched and so maxed out and like you can’t take it anymore…well, then you’re stretched a little bit further…and that’s when He does a miracle.
I’m waiting expectantly for our miracle, because I know that God will come through.
No one who waits on the Lord will ever be put to shame.
We wait and we trust.
And in this waiting and trusting process, I was remembering a me from a year ago. A me who would’ve been panicking. A me who would have flung wide the front door and called loudly for Poor Me and Discouragement. A me who would’ve been shaken her fist at God and demanded to know just what in the world He was trying to do.
I’m different now, because I’ve invited Him to purify me and make me better. I still get discouraged, I still feel sorry for myself sometimes. I still struggle to stand on faith. But that’s because I’m a real person, living on earth and it’s a process. Today, I’m choosing thankfulness in the face of financial strain. Today, I’m choosing thankfulness while figuring out how to navigate gestational diabetes. Today, I’m choosing thankfulness even though the driver’s seat of my car is really wet after all that rain. (The roof leaks.)
And I’m not ashamed to say that we’re in an uncertain time in our finances. That we’re not sure what steps to take or where to go next or what to do. I’ll be the first to say that our finances have faced attack after some decisions that we made to serve the Lord’s kingdom. I know it isn’t “done” to talk about money, it’s not politically correct or even polite, but it is real. I’ll bet many, if not most, of my readers can understand money trouble.
John often says that when the money troubles loom, he thinks about Nora and how God rescued her. He saved her little life and has caused her to flourish. He says that our financial problems seem awfully small in comparison to those miracles.
Thankful. He’s thankful for the daughter that is still growing, that has beaten odds and that is preparing for her life on earth.
We’re thankful for our home. For our family, for every one of these crazy kids. We’re thankful for the laughter that fills this house, for the puns that flow endless around our dinner table, for the prayers of two very little girls who already know that God hears them. We’re thankful for our silly dog who lets Claire pull on her face and on her ears with tail wagging. We’re thankful for the shoes that line the stairs, for toys that are hazards in the floor because they are a sign of happy, healthy children.
We’re a thankful people here in this house.
These momentary light afflictions are just that…and they are producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond compare.
God can. God will.
He just might not do it as quickly as I’d like him to.