Reason #98

I am a talker. I love a good discussion, so I prefer to use conversation as my means of working things out. I’ve had a lot of conversations in my lifetime. Some good, some painful, some fun, some boring, some short and some long. I have to let things off my chest. I can’t keep my thoughts to myself or hold my feelings in, so I call my mom for advice, meet my friends for coffee, e-mail my mentors, and I use these opportunities as methods for helping me organize the thoughts that are rolling around in my head. Women love to help one another out. We like to get advice and we like to give advice. Sometimes, I have discussions and I ask questions that I already know the answer to. Sometimes, I’m caught off guard, but usually I am given the reply that I expect because I know the ones I am asking very well. Also, most of their advice and suggestions are the exact same ones I would give them were the tables turned. And I’ve well learned that, even though often given with good intentions, it is easy to give specific advice about a situation you’ve never been in.

My dad is a man of few words. He doesn’t voluntarily speak up or offer excessive amounts of information unless prodded, and occasionally, he gives me an answer that I’m not expecting. I remember staying home from work one day in October. I had been in bed for hours and was a total wreck. I sulked around the house in my pj’s and robe while sporting a horrific case of bed-head. For weeks I had basically stopped eating. It’s not that I didn’t want to eat or was intentionally avoiding food, I couldn’t eat. I would get sick each time I ate. My stomach never growled. I suppose the pain of hunger was masked by the pain of a broken heart. Anyhow, my dad decided he would bring me Chick-Fil-A, a meal I would never turn down. I sat there and stared at 4 tiny chicken nuggets, knowing there was no way I could choke those nuggets down, while my dear dad gave me an award-winning, “rally the troops,” pep talk. The thing I love most about getting advice from men is that you never know how you’ll get it or the way that it will be delivered. I don’t remember everything he said, but I cried and wailed and I just wanted him to do the same thing. Feel sorry for me and let me know it! But my dad is a tough man. He’s seen a lot and been through a lot, so he doesn’t crack easily. Really, I’m thankful to have such a strong man in my life to balance out my sometimes dramatic, weepy ways. Anyhow, he sat there and made me eat my nuggets before he left and as he went, he gave me a hug and said, “This too shall pass.”

This too shall pass… but I didn’t think it would. The last 3 months of the year stretched out. The days drug on, the nights never ended, and the weekends were pure torture. I just wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. Why was it taking so long? If only I could get to January, then at least I’d have a definite answer. But the days had to pass and I had to learn to wait, to be patient. And I talked it through and through with so many people but they couldn’t tell me what to do, what to expect or when I would receive an answer to my prayers. They gave me the best advice they could. They listened and encouraged me, often times telling me what I wanted to hear, what I expected to hear, and occasionally things I hadn’t yet thought of.

And now, it is April. And it has passed, but I find myself back in a state of anxiously waiting, so the words my dad shared with me months ago have been rolling around in my head. I look back and I see all that God faithfully brought me through. It’s over. No more anxiously awaiting that outcome. I made it out alive. But, I’m a fleshly girl with a short memory some days. I forget how much has “passed,” so He is reminding me of that today. Today, as I feel a little discouraged, He is reminding me that, “This, too, shall pass.” And I’m starting to remember that I was only able to pass through on His strength. I want others to tell me what’s going to happen, how it is all going to turn out, but they can’t and I suppose it’s unfair of me to expect them to do so. No one knew how my life was going to turn out as we all desperately prayed and waited for it to pass, but He knew. And I forget that He’s the one I need to be asking. The one I need to be looking to for the answers to my questions. He needs to be my sounding board, the organizer of my thoughts.

So I thought of Mary this morning. Mary, the mother of Jesus. Talk about a girl whose life was interrupted, a girl whose plans were redirected. In Luke 1, she finds out she’s going to give birth to the Messiah. Planning a wedding and a future, and an unforeseen surprise was thrown in the mix. And for 9 months she had to wait. Of course this, too, was going to pass. Some things just take time. But Mary, the one with whom God found much favor, trusted in His plan. “The time came for the baby to be born…” (Luke 2:7), laboring, pushing, and it passed. He was here!  Months of waiting, wondering, worrying… it passed, and all was well. More than well!

So I find encouragement remembering that, “When [I] pass through the waters, [He] will be with [me]; and when [I] pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over [me].” (Isaiah 43:2) For He’s helped me pass through more than I ever though possible, so why would He stop now?

Reason #98 -  Because this, too, shall pass.

“I foretold the former things long ago, my mouth announced them and I made them known; then suddenly I acted, and they came to pass.” – Isaiah 48:3