Today was a beautiful day. The breeze was perfect and we enjoyed our picnic at the Sesame Street Safari in Busch Gardens. Watching the little peanut grab ahold of Elmo's hand and then kiss him when he bent down to hug her melted my heart. She's growing in leaps and bounds and I've been a fortunate witness to the beautiful little lady she's turning into.
Despite these moments, and because of them, I'm so feeble and fragile right now.. I've let life's circumstances mold me, instead of letting my Maker's hands. I've found myself thriving on negative energy and it's grown inside of me like a toothy monster, feeding off of circumstances beyond my control. I'm angry and it's manifested itself in snarky, rude comments and lots of intentional eye rolling. I understand this anger. I own up to it. I recognize it, and yet I find myself coming up short when it comes to taking the reigns on its power over me.
I've unknowingly stamped unfair conditions on God's love and He has again proven that He alone controls our fate. I've always battled with the notion of prayer when His plan for me has been sealed since before my birth. And yet I've prayed so hard lately, (eyes squeezed shut, knuckles white from clenching them together kind of prayer). He has woven people into our lives to serve a short term in helping us grow to become better, more accurate reflections of Him. The learning comes when we have to let them go.
The hardest battle I fight when following Christ is handing over control when I know that His plan for us will still include unbearable pain. I think about all of the injuries from my past and the methods devoid of God that I've used to mend them. Quick fixes with crooked healing and noticeable scars. I accept my pain this time. My grief will bring me close to Him in a raw, cleansing way that my wounded soul needs. It will take a long time I believe, but He will be faithful to me.
What I can't accept is that His plan for the peanut may cause her pain. I want her to have the tools to tackle life's shortcomings and to be able to feel confident despite a wounded heart. Even though it seems silly, sometimes I feel like He has forgotten about her. I want Him to speak to me so clearly, so vividly, so loudly that I can't deny it. Amy, I'm watching her. I want her to know Christ intimately. I want her to appreciate the warmth of the sun on her face and liken it to His hand on her cheek. I want Him to reveal His glory to her, and quickly, so that her faith can develop and pulse through her tiny body when she is scared or confused. She will be going home in less than 2 weeks and I feel myself buckle at the knees each morning when I go to get her out of her crib. She wraps her arms around my neck like dainty ribbons and then kisses me on the cheek. The streetlights glow through her dimly lit bedroom and we battle as I try to get her dressed while she twists and contorts her body, straining to see my Jack Russell Terrier playing with her toy. Each tiny coo, I imprint into my memory, tucking it away for a time when I feel strong enough to let it out.
I bought a book from Amazon.com called Tear Soup. It's a children's fiction book. I bought it for a student but I've taken so much solace from it. It chronicles a grieving elderly woman named Grandy who has suffered a big loss. The book never specifies what her loss is which allows the reader to mold the story to fit their own unique needs. The author compares grieving to making "Tear Soup." I cried when I read the book because it was such a gentle way to approach grief. Everyone takes different amounts of time cooking their soup. Everyone's recipe for Tear Soup is different. No one can tell you how to make your Tear Soup or that you're doing it wrong. Some people may be angry at you for spending so much time making Tear Soup and tell you that you've been cooking far too long. Some people have made their Tear Soup from a can, trying to cook it hastily and clean it up but their healing wasn't fully complete. It was such a brilliant way to make tangible such an abstact process.
I don't know Jesus the way I'd like to. I don't know the Bible as well as I want to. I resist forming a solid bond with my God, without meaning to. Sometimes I feel I trivialize God's power so I am able to wrap my head around it. I feel silly at times for believing that I know better than He does, what is best for me, what is best for my child. I am His student. I am always learning. How blessed I am to be given the chance.
