Did you know that you can cry with heartache and still be joyful?
You can.
This morning I have had the urge to weep, yet I have a joyful spirit. I am focusing on the blessings God has given me, yet I am keenly aware of my needs and my loss.
Sounds like a paradox.
It is.
Our church is going through a 40 days of prayer course. I’m finding the sermons helpful and the readings inspiring. I needed to be reminded of some of God’s attributes: His love, His power, His willingness to give (lavishly) to His own.
The part about a parent giving what is good for a child really hit me in a new light. Parents will never encourage anything detrimental for their children.
I would never encourage alcohol, drugs, or any lascivious behavior in any of my children. I wouldn’t encourage greed, pride, envy, anger, lust, gluttony, or sloth. Those seven deadlies are concise and helpful in defining the roots of problems or plain sin.
We are training a very endearing puppy these days. She has a short coat of hair, so she hates the sub-zero temps we’ve been enduring lately. Still, we make her go out regularly. We often forget that she still needs surveillance 24/7 and she makes mistakes. We are always cleaning up after her. She’s an incredibly smart dog, yet she takes advantage of our lax vigilance.
She’s treated to the best of treats and privileges. She’s loved and coddled. She has the best care and love. She still needs compassion and forgiveness, understanding.
Does the Heavenly Father know I need His compassion, forgiveness, understanding?
Of course.
Why is that so hard for me to believe?
At least lately.
I know that the Father wants good gifts for me. He has given me purpose and ability, fellowship and ease. He has given me heat in the dead of winter, sustenance for life, two basic human needs. He has taken charge of my life in ways that I could never have imagined, and I am grateful.
Yet I’m still sad. I miss my husband and I still have a hard time believing he’s gone—even a year and a half after his death. I wonder how long I will feel this way. It seems to be like an electric shock that surprises me when I touch the big old dryer at the hotel where I work on weekends, and I’m full of static from handling the blankets. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Always.
As I choose to focus on a smaller circle I have been blessed with new directions of interest and industry.
The school where I teach has about 1,000 students. They all know me. They give me joy when they enter the room and cry out happily, “It’s Mrs. Corgi.”
I had an unruly class of 8th graders last Friday. These kids have given me grief since I started my job at the district 5 years ago. They have issues with respect.
The day ended with a huge laugh, though, and my faith in these bright and promising students was restored. We shared a moment of levity after a few trying moments. This type of thing gives joy, gives hope, and gives place. I belong there.
I guess I belong here on this earth right now. Despair and heartache can snatch that sense of belonging. I have longed for heaven for so long.
Why are we still here?
Maranatha!?
I am asking big things of God: I want to be raptured. I want to be light in this world and in the Millenium, that thousand-year reign of Christ on earth.
I want to enter at the strait gate. I want to be on the narrow way.
And I want my children to be on it, too. I want those on my “Snatch List” to be on it.
If you know me I want you to be on it.
This gives me joy, to think that the Father will answer my supplications.
I can cry, and I can be joyful.
Today I am sad with joy.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus.