Vibrant in the Rain

Sometimes, I think the autumned trees look more vibrant in November rains.  But almost always, I think to stand in the rain to see them feels soggy, cold and with a miserable rawness that penetrates to your bones. This feels like my life at times right now.  (Sunshine, blue skies and 72ish degrees make me happy.) The rawness and cold of life's storms don't stay away because we ask them to and prayers don't always get answered in the ways we want them to.  Rain, and dare I say, devastating storms fall on us all at some point. And I hate this. I hate this more than I ever imagined I could.

My dad is my hero, if there is or was ever a man in this world that I know, he is the goodliest that I have ever met.  And yet, life's rains don't discriminate the good from the bad. As I have watched him take the hits and face the storms, he has been nothing short of heroic, steadfast in his faith and caring about how to lift the burden that he fears I feel. He is standing taller and more vibrantly in the rain. I've always expected that my dad, my kid's Papa would be running with them until he was ninety. That's been my plan.  It's not seeming like God and I are on the same page and I can't begin to understand why.  I've gone through every reasoning in my head and, with Him, I've persuaded, pleaded and, with all abandon, begged that he see it my way.

We got home late a couple of nights ago and as I said goodnight to my 11 year old son and was walking out, he said, "Wait, you forgot to pray with me."  I was exhausted and was hoping a quick goodnight would suffice that night.  I turned back around, sat next to him and said "You're right, let's pray."  My prayer was short and rather obligatory that night.  Then Caleb began to pray and mid sentence, for the first time, he shifted his request as he started to pray as he always does for his Papa. As he was asking for God to heal him, he paused and then changed his prayer to one that started, "And God, I pray that you would heal . . .I mean, I also pray that you would encourage Papa's heart and make him feel happy."  I'm relearning to pray a bit too, not to stop asking for my desires, but to find the strength and comfort through the unbearably hard even when solace feels so distantly far away.  Caleb helped me this night to learn this more, as even his young faith is being formed, not just in the blue skies and sunshine, but especially through the rain.

I'm not thinking right now that I'll ever understand the why's. I'm just trying to figure out how in the world to be at peace with that. What I do know, and what I'm learning is that, in fact, the blood orange, sun-glittered gold and crimson leaves do seem to shout more boldly against the backdrop of gray and storm.  And I can appreciate that.  I can find comfort and joy in the presence of what is here today.  My dad is with me now and I'm enjoying the brightly colored leaves, focusing on that, rather than how the cold is raw and burns, and the anticipation of winter is coming. Today, the vibrancy is shining and that is what I am choosing to converge upon.

My Way or the Highway

So I haven't posted anything, in quite a while, actually years . . .but trying to get my writing muscles warmed up again and was looking through some unpublished drafts that seem distant enough now to not be so embarrassing for my now 7 year old ;) So here's to a throwback that still seems vividly clear in my mind and ears . . .

Friday morning, after going to the fourth grade "girl's talk" with the school nurse (very enlightening and filled with giggles), I thought meeting a friend with our 4 year olds at the mall play park seemed like an excellent idea on a dismal and downpouring day.  Little did I know the drama that would follow over a pair of socks.  My daughter was having a great time climbing in and out of the toy boats and cars and tunnels.  Smiles emerged continually after repetitious sliding.  She joyfully ran up to me asking if she could take her socks off.  My instant response was "No, honey, the floor might be dirty."  You'd think I just stuck her with fifty needles and then it happened, what all mothers dread in front and center view of all present audiences.  The fit of all fits.  Now, I knew my daughter had a will, and most times I sympathize, chuckle slightly and feel relieved that it's not my child looking demon possessed as a parent carries them off kicking and screaming to a land far far away . . .but on this day, it was my child.  Over a pair of socks.  Her will shone bright as day and dark as night as one moment of happy bliss turned to all heck breaking loose inside this "cute" child of mine.  It's in these moments, that you wish you could run away and pretend like you didn't know this little person.  And it's in these moments that every eye in, what seems all of a sudden a very crowded place, are staring at you with shakes of the heads and raised eyebrows, knowing it is precisely to you that this child belongs.  You learn to not look at anyone, mumble quickly "Yes it is!" to the woman clarifying for you that this is a rough day for you.  

The walk out through the corridors and parking lot seem eternally long and you've never felt more grateful for the haven the seat belts of the car seat provide to contain such strong wills in small packages, to put it politely.   My hands were shaking and my patience was gone and to remain quiet and pray for God to give me even a remnant of calm was all I could muster. The breathing techniques from childbirth classes came into play again, don't  think they can't find a place outside of labor in this wonderful, wild world of parenthood.  We had a very stern talk with dad upon arrival at home and after many tears, apologies and punishment, my angelic daughter returned--I'd never missed her so much!  Later that night as we were talking, I asked her what prompted this "display of will," and her simple response was still "I just didn't want to wear my socks."  Seriously, was that worth it? You wonder as a parent how all sense of logic and rationale find no place in a child's heart.

We prayed together at bedtime, and after such a day, the sincerity in the prayers of my child melt my heart (which still needed a little melting towards her ;) ) as she asked God to help her to be good and thanking him for giving her a mommy that takes care of her and helps her to be good.  Maybe, she had learned something from all of this :)  She is one of my greatest joys in this life, but at times these greatest joys have to learn that wanting it "my way" and being the boss is not her role in life at this point.  Today, I admired her quietly from the doorway as I eavesdropped on her and Baby, Baby, Baby as she was explaining to her about Jesus and how important it was to obey Mommy and Daddy. Her learning the lessons didn't shut down her spirit, but is pruning her character to remain a joy in all circumstances.  It made me think about how I handle life when things don't go my way or turn out the way I was hoping.  Hopefully,it's not resulting in public (or private) tantrums, but learning to trust that God always prevails and his way is always better than mine!

Isaiah 55:8-9

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.