I know that my life is blessed. I am blessed. I have a friend who just lost his son, and I would hate to even think of whining about my "suffering" in his presence. There may be no worse pain than losing a child, well maybe burning alive would be worse. I'm not sure. Yeah, compared to many I have it good... right now, broke, in pain and with little reason to believe either will change any time soon, I have it good.
I have food to eat. I can, and will most likely, be full today. Probably more than once. I have a roof over my head, and despite the car being unusable at the moment, still have transportation to get where I need to go. It's not ours, but it's ours to use as we need. I have coffee, and despite the pain in my back, am in relatively good health, especially considering the life I've led and the fact that I drank and drugged and wrecked cars and went to prison, and etc., etc., etc., for over half of my 45 years on earth. My eyes are even better and I'm not afraid of being blind any time soon anymore. I have a wonderful, smart and beautiful wife I love and who loves me. That last part never ceases to amaze me. And thought I don't have any biological offspring of my own, I have two amazing adult step children I love and am proud of and a grandson who is beyond a blessing. I have been clean and sober for six and a half years and despite everything that seems either wrong or not as good as I'd prefer and the pain I am in, I have no desire to drink or drug today. That my Dear Reader is a miracle of epic proportions. As far as I know, everyone I love in my life who was alive yesterday is alive this morning. Last but not least, I have a God who made all of that possible and who loves me and wants to have relationship with me, in spite of who I am and all I've done wrong. He loves me as I am and not as I should be, but He loves me enough not to leave me as I am.
I forgot to publish my five things that I am grateful for today on social media last night because of everything that was going on and how late it became before Leah and I got to even think about relaxing, but it wasn't because I was unaware of all that I have to be grateful for. I have an amazing life that is better than I ever thought it would be. I understand and am fully aware that I have been blessed. and that I have more and a much better life than I deserve. Knowing that I have it better than many around the world though doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt when things are hard and painful. I know that I am blessed, but I still wouldn't mind it at all if my penny were a little shinier. In fact, I would really like that. Any time now. Please.
I don't have all the answers. I don't know how to make it all better. I can't fix these situations. They are not in my control, and some of them, at least one, were actually caused by my mismanagement while trying to run my own life. I don't know what to tell you if you're suffering and want to know how to make it not hurt. I don't know what to tell my friend who lost his son. I know enough to know there are no magic words that can take that pain away. I don't think that kind of pain is supposed to be avoided or numbed, but rather to be shared and traveled through. There is pain in the bitter winds that blow across the Winter Way of Grief, but there's something beautiful in the journey as well, It can't be explained or described to anyone who hasn't been there any more than ice covered trees can be described in all their sensory and emotional aspects to someone who has lived their life in the Sahara. But there is beauty there, and even bittersweet joy as we learn to walk closely against the harsh winds with our Comforter and our salty tears melt the ice and water the ground for new life in the coming spring.
No. I don't know all the answers. I don't know any magic formulae to make suffering not feel like, well, suffering. I don't know the trick to not feeling overwhelmed when the tides of life beat you into the rocks again and again and again without letting you catch your breath, much less escape. I don't know how Joni Eareckson Tada has lived in a wheelchair as a quadriplegic for 49 years, after breaking her neck in a swimming accident as a young woman in her late teens, with a smile that reaches her eyes and an assurance of God's love for her, even though Daddy didn't heal her and give her the ability to walk, or at least the use of her hands. She even ended up with breast cancer six years ago and had to fight that, and yet she remains assured she is loved by God and has a beautiful joy about her. I guess she could be wearing a mask and faking it, but if so, that's amazing in itself. What a commitment to the act! 49 years! I couldn't do it. I know even less how to do that than I do to get where she appears to be. I tried and self destructed in a few years. I can't imagine half a century of faking joy and peace and believing you're loved. I don't know how she does what she does or how Nick Vujicic, who was born without arms and legs, or the Christian parents watching their children die of starvation or any of the many others who truly suffer and make my problems appear as trivial as those of a pampered child whose dinner is a little late because he stubbed his toe on the way to the table go though their day aware of and assure of God's love for them.
I want to know. No, I don't. Yes, I do. I'd rather not. Yes, yes I would. I want to know because I am beginning to learn it, like it or not. I know that the answer has to do with running to Daddy instead of away from Him. Today I am a snitch. It used to be that when my brothers and sisters would bully me, hurt me, lie to me, boss me around and beat me up I would try to hurt them back or run away from them, and I would blame Daddy and get as mad at Him as I was at them. Now I run to Him and tattle. When I do that, He comforts me, and He promised me He'd deal with their hearts, attitudes and behavior. Yeah, I have learned Daddy they're picking on me will You spend some time with just me so I feel loved? works so much better for my life and how I feel than Daddy they're mean to me so I hate You.
Today when the people down the street who aren't my brothers start picking on me I snitch. I don't feel the need to fight them. I don't have to argue with them and give them reason for their animosity. I don't have to do what I was always more likely to do anyway, which is try to be like them and get them to like and accept me so that they wouldn't be mean. It didn't work with my brothers and sisters, but hey, it's a lot easier to raise hell than serve heaven on your own determination and strength. Today I run to Daddy, and His love for me makes it easier to accept that not everyone else is going to love me, or accept me or even be polite and nice. and that's OK, even though it still hurts and makes me sad sometimes.
Today I know that even if I'm the one who broke it, I can run to Daddy. Daddy, I'm sad because I broke my toy, my car, my life, my whatever. Maybe He fixes it. Maybe He doesn't fix it because He wants to give me something better. Maybe He doesn't fix it because He wants me to learn that there are consequences to my actions. Maybe He doesn't fix it because I can actually be better without it than with it. Maybe He doesn't fix it because it will heal or repair itself. But fix it or not, He can give me a hug and tell me He loves me. Not once have I ever gone to God with something I broke and got anything remotely like a Now look what you've done! What am I going to do with you? I wish I had never adopted you! No. He's all, I know. And I know it hurts, but I forgive you and I love you.
Today, when the load is too heavy I don't have to quit or throw a fit about it not being fair that I have to deal with and carry so much. I don't have to believe or feel like I'm the unwanted and unappreciated foster kid taken in for labor and what I can bring to the family without really being included, wanted or loved, but I can remember (sometimes it takes a minute) that my Daddy loves me, and He chose to not only take me in but adopt me and make me really one of His children and that if I go to Him with my load He will help me carry it, or He will take it from me, or He will help me let it go.
It still feels overwhelming sometimes. It still makes me cry every once in a while. I still hurts. It still sucks. I still feel afraid from time to time that it's not going to get better and that I won't survive it, much less overcome it. I don't fear the evil as I walk, but I do wonder now and again if I will die in the Valley of the Shadow. I still sometimes can't feel His arms around me when I go into shock after being beaten into the rocks by another wave and wonder if He's holding me and listening to my cries as I struggle to breathe. My life may not be as hard as yours, or it may be much more difficult. It doesn't matter. Your pain and hardship level doesn't have anything to do with mine, and mine has nothing to do with yours. Suffering is suffering. I don't know how to make it not hurt. I tried for years and only made it worse. I know that self pity won't make it better and is even dangerous, but I still can't help breaking my diet, no feeding on self allowed (I'm allergic), sometimes and binging on feeling sorry for myself sometimes, even knowing it'll make me miserable.
But I'm learning that I don't have to feel sorry for myself, and I don't have to make it stop hurting, and I don't even have to fix it. I don't know how to escape it, but I'm learning how to share it with the Comforter. I'm learning to see beauty in other hard and dangerous roads other than the Winter Way of Grief as I travel them with my Daddy. Yes, I know the direction to go. I know that the only way to learn the answer is to go through it. And I know that there's a reason why the Holy Spirit, who was promised us, is called Comforter and not Mr. Fix It.
And I know this song, I Still Believe, always seems to inspire and encourage me. The original version by The Call is great, and the cover by Russ Taff is better than the original, but my favorite version of it will always be the Tim Capello cover used on the soundtrack for The Lost Boys. I highly recommend checking it out. Be blessed, Dead Reader, and may your suffering be short, but if you have to suffer, you don't have to do it alone. You can share it with the Comforter.
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