Well, here's the thing. Life is not always as it appears on the outside. It could be better demonstrated by showing you another picture I took this week-just days before the one I took yesterday, when life seemed so delightful and carefree.
The mountain I drove by , on my original summer road trip, was being Blasted apart, this massive, hard, seemingly indestructible pile of rocks, minimized and made manageable by a force stronger than bedrock. Dynamite. There were temporary signs of destruction and explosions everywhere.
I am in a hotel room, waiting for daylight to break, so that I can wait my turn and go look at my 12th grandchild from underneath a gown and without being able to touch his sweet little body. He is in crisis. But that is not my story~that is his parent's story and his story.
As much as I want to share with my praying friends and family all the little details of his birth, as I am visiting the Southwest in conditions less appealing than MY original plan anticipated, I will not. I will tell you about the second picture's application as I wait upon the Lord. Again I wait.
God often uses dynamite in our lives to break the hardened hearts we are carrying around , just beneath the surface.
Oh, people love pretending there is nothing to fear, no life experience we cannot handle. After all, technology gives us internet access to every possible medical update or procedure you can imagine-just Google it. People know people and there is always a Networking system ready to kick into action at the slightest mention of trouble`just Facebook it. Hey, I can tweet and have a kazillion folks ready to come to my rescue with solutions to my problems. Maybe I will text just a select few close, trusted friends and see if they can rescue me from this mess I find myself in?
Underneath it, whatever IT is, lies a very large God -avoiding, eternity-ignoring MOUNTAIN. Hard, tough unwilling to admit that certain things are beyond our control, we are solid rock and nobody is going to blast our belief that I CAN HANDLE IT.
Enter God.
He has a deep, deep love for us and He continues to gently give us so many good , lovely gifts. We have flowers , trees, bumblebees and butterflies. We have air to breathe, clothes to wear, shoes to adorn our feet and trips to take. We blink and swallow and think and hug. We love and laugh, joke and party. How about our boats , trailers, motorcycles, ski mobiles and climbing ropes? Should I mention the sunshine, rainbows, raindrops, balmy breezes and autumn leaf changing season? We all have a mother, and a father. Usually there has been given an abundance of family members to fight and share and reunion with.
The mighty God of the universe gives us so many little, tiny, huge, magnificent good gifts and never demands anything in return from us, except, perhaps, a simple acknowledgement that He is God and we are not.
Enter Dynamite.
The year was 1984 , I was a young parent and my husband and I had 4 beautiful children and a baby, Danny was not 'normal' medically and perhaps not 'normal' developmentally, but who can know what 'normal' is? Child number 2 , my sweet Becca Sue, was turning 6 and she was such a beautiful and happy little girl. Many would have forgotten by now of her beginnings in the Intensive Care Unit, 9 days of machines and beeping sounds that erupt in your sleep once you've heard them long enough. I had not forgotten, and thanked God regularly for her life.
Danny lived 9 months, and when he died, on February 1st, I felt the Blast of dynamite rocking my world once again and unlike our happy story when Becca was healed, God was writing another chapter of my story, a gently sad one , becoming a reminder of God's control of life and death issues.
It is a story that I had buried fairly deeply down inside my heart, and carefully built the rock walls around. I hated that chapter, not so much for the death of my son, which was horrific at the happening, but more for the fact that I had to face head on that what I want does NOT happen every time, and I DO NOT understand it. Sometimes I disagree with it. Often I argue about it , ranting at God in my rage and fury, until He has me pass by a flower He made.
Then I remember again, oh, God, you are Creator God, I am not.
Enter Theodore. MY 12th grandson, who is very, very sick.
I do not know how his story will end . I am crying as I type these words and as you have read, my thoughts and heart are jumbled and a mess. God allowed me to keep Rebecca, He allowed me to give up Daniel. He gave me Paul , Margie, Julie, Joshua, Andrew and Rachel, the mother of Teddy. He has kept me as I have lived through divorce and the destruction of my marriage and life as I knew it. God
has allowed me the joy and love of grandchildren Eliot, Simon, Jesse,Nora, Ava, Isabel, Ethan Bianca, Aidan, Evelyn , Luke and Theodore.
Enter HOPE.
The truth is, there just might be a sunny sky hidden ahead , and what I am most learning through these storms is still a very simple Truth.
God is God and I am not.
Read it and see if it helps when you face Life and Death issues, it has helped me.
