For several years, I have ordered a lovely hardback book/calendar/diary from a company that I like very much. Vibrant floral prints adorn the cover and a coordinating colored ribbon functions as a bookmark. Bits of life’s wisdom from authors past and present are written in the margins of each page which is divided into 7 segments for each week.
My life’s activities are recorded there, whether significant family events, mundane tasks, major purchases or business transactions. Emotional highs and lows, prayer requests and answered prayers are often highlighted as well.
Sometimes, I sigh as I turn the page to begin recording the next week’s occurrences. I am hopeful that this next page’s entries will have more wins than losses, greater joy than sadness, more hope and less anguish.
If I seem a bit emotional, it is because last year was a quite difficult one. Weeks, not just days, passed with crises that did not lift and heaviness that was painfully tangible. I could not sleep and anxiety haunted the early morning hours before daylight.
I circled the day’s date when someone would call and tell me that the Lord brought me to mind. Had it not been for the kindness, intercessory prayer, and love displayed to me, I do not know how I would have come through my year of anguish concerning my special son who has lived with us for forty years.
God has brought answers with his life many times, but for the past two years he had been in a cycle of unending hospitalizations and crises. There was no controlling anything and my husband and I tried everything to bring an order to the chaos.
As the year progressed I realized I was not only dealing with my son’s depression but my own as well.
More used to being the one who prays for others, I found my need to be very great for others to pray for me. All I could do was cry out to the Lord, pour out my anguish, and let him lead me.
Life was like a thick, impenetrable fog. Little made sense and the healing I prayed for seemed unattainable no matter how often or fervent my requests.
Then, quietly, as my soul emptied out the heartache, disappointment, and grief, I began to sense that God was turning the page of my book. Hope dug into the hardened soil of my heart and opened a hole in the thick fog.
I could see daylight and feel warmth in the cold recesses of my painful grief. I knew who was in control; I sensed His Spirit stirring life in the dead limbs of my wintry existence.
The page’s texture was smooth and new: I could smell the ink and anticipate the entry He was about to start writing. At this week’s end there would be more wins than losses; joys would run past sadness, and hope would send anguish to the bottom of the ocean.
Circumstances are changing even as anxiety is abating. Sleep is sound and sweet. Even understanding is emerging as to what this period was about. His strength is greater than any crisis. He needs to test what He has formed in me and change what I cannot do by myself.
Should you find yourself in a senseless fog or find deadness in the limbs of your being or sigh with anxiety as the new week unfolds…hold on, pour out what is inside until it is gone and wait…God is about to turn the page of your book. God is no respecter of persons. What He has done for me, He will do for you.