Two years ago, God put a word on my heart. Just one word. By itself. Without context.
It's funny, really. I didn't know why, or what the word was for, except that I really felt like it was something I needed to write about. Nearly every day from then until the first week of this past October, I spent time researching and pondering and praying about what it means to be resilient.
In the first week of October, I finally felt like I had found direction in my writing about resilient. I began to write. I really have to give much of the credit to my fiery first-born.
Let me preface with a brief introduction to this little girl. She dreams up the show. She casts it with any (-one who's in the room) living or (because they are much more submissive) imaginary character necessary to complete her vision. She passionately directs and produces the entire elaborate scheme before you realize that your coffee cup has been removed from your hand and you've dawned a feather boa, crown, and miniature glass slippers, not to mention a script (with little room for improvisation and) with your lines already highlighted. Life with this beautiful little lady remains at the seat's edge, if you can even make it into the chair.
As an infant, she was content to sleep anywhere I went, as long as I was holding her or wearing her. As an early toddler, she was happy to play as long as I was sitting next to her (with my hands at my sides). Once she was half-way through two, she had become an engineer, an architect, a composer, an artist. Her creativity and passion require a lot of energy and up-close reigning-in. Her heart, if you'll abide her excitement long enough see inside of it, is tender and beautiful. And, it is that heart that sometimes just catches me off guard.
It's funny, really. I didn't know why, or what the word was for, except that I really felt like it was something I needed to write about. Nearly every day from then until the first week of this past October, I spent time researching and pondering and praying about what it means to be resilient.
In the first week of October, I finally felt like I had found direction in my writing about resilient. I began to write. I really have to give much of the credit to my fiery first-born.
Let me preface with a brief introduction to this little girl. She dreams up the show. She casts it with any (-one who's in the room) living or (because they are much more submissive) imaginary character necessary to complete her vision. She passionately directs and produces the entire elaborate scheme before you realize that your coffee cup has been removed from your hand and you've dawned a feather boa, crown, and miniature glass slippers, not to mention a script (with little room for improvisation and) with your lines already highlighted. Life with this beautiful little lady remains at the seat's edge, if you can even make it into the chair.
As an infant, she was content to sleep anywhere I went, as long as I was holding her or wearing her. As an early toddler, she was happy to play as long as I was sitting next to her (with my hands at my sides). Once she was half-way through two, she had become an engineer, an architect, a composer, an artist. Her creativity and passion require a lot of energy and up-close reigning-in. Her heart, if you'll abide her excitement long enough see inside of it, is tender and beautiful. And, it is that heart that sometimes just catches me off guard.
So, back to that first week of October. I began to write, as I recalled an autumn morning from the previous year.
The leaves had just begun to turn and pumpkin spiced lattes were coming out in all of the coffee shops. What truly great story doesn't start with that image? Oh, how I love fall. We uprooted our life, moved a quarter of the way across the country, and I was well into my pregnancy with baby number three. Itching to be sitting in the crisp outdoors and sipping one of those glorious pumpkin lattes, I was, instead, at our first appointment with the pediatrician in our new town.
Resilient. Journeying through the valleys of life from strength to strength. Having hearts that are not destroyed by trouble because of the confidence that God is always stronger. He is with us through the weeping.
The leaves had just begun to turn and pumpkin spiced lattes were coming out in all of the coffee shops. What truly great story doesn't start with that image? Oh, how I love fall. We uprooted our life, moved a quarter of the way across the country, and I was well into my pregnancy with baby number three. Itching to be sitting in the crisp outdoors and sipping one of those glorious pumpkin lattes, I was, instead, at our first appointment with the pediatrician in our new town.
It was that small room at everyone's lunchtime where nothing is allowed to be touched and you aren't allowed to leave and your two toddlers are (to say the least) antsy. It was a perfect setup for making an impression on new folks. Have you been there? You'll remember--it's the room where the walls close in on you by the minute and you forget how to breathe.
In full knowledge of her own awareness of tight spaces, I presented an opportunity to my oldest child: "If you are obedient, we'll go and get frozen yogurt when we leave here."
In full knowledge of her own awareness of tight spaces, I presented an opportunity to my oldest child: "If you are obedient, we'll go and get frozen yogurt when we leave here."
Well, in the midst of a tiny world recently having been turned upside-down by relocation and the natural changes of growing into full-blown late toddlerhood, not to mention the nature of sin, my offer wasn't enough to motivate the practice of good listening skills. Disobedience ensued. And the walls of the room continued to close in as my oldest toddler bounced off of them.
Then, cue the three-year-old screams that ensued as I (still very pregnant) carried one child on my hip and another over my shoulder and tried to keep smiling for the parking lot audience that I was sure we were gathering as we made our escape from the doctor's office. It got louder and more piercing once I had her strapped into her car seat. I was standing firm on the second side of my earlier bargain. The screaming turned to piercing as we drove past the frozen yogurt shop. Pulling over to add consequences (that Proverbs would approve of) for being a danger to the driver didn't reduce the volume, and by now, I was frazzled, feeling helpless, angry, and like I would never win this battle.
Then, cue the three-year-old screams that ensued as I (still very pregnant) carried one child on my hip and another over my shoulder and tried to keep smiling for the parking lot audience that I was sure we were gathering as we made our escape from the doctor's office. It got louder and more piercing once I had her strapped into her car seat. I was standing firm on the second side of my earlier bargain. The screaming turned to piercing as we drove past the frozen yogurt shop. Pulling over to add consequences (that Proverbs would approve of) for being a danger to the driver didn't reduce the volume, and by now, I was frazzled, feeling helpless, angry, and like I would never win this battle.
Suddenly, as I gripped the steering wheel, glaring at the road in front of me, willing it to take me to some place that felt like home and peace, a familiar voice (from an era somewhere preceding the past hour), asked me sweetly if we could sing a song.
Wait. That was it? That huge tantrum in one moment and a happy song in the next? It was as though the entire thing had been erased from her mind and she was completely ready for a new adventure. I was sweating and flushed and stewing, and she wanted to sing. If only I could switch gears that quickly!
"Don't you think you need to say something to Mommy?" I asked, taken aback by her composure.
"Yes, Mommy. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you at the doctor and I'm sorry for screaming at you," and again she asked, "Can we sing a song?"
Wait. That was it? That huge tantrum in one moment and a happy song in the next? It was as though the entire thing had been erased from her mind and she was completely ready for a new adventure. I was sweating and flushed and stewing, and she wanted to sing. If only I could switch gears that quickly!
"Don't you think you need to say something to Mommy?" I asked, taken aback by her composure.
"Yes, Mommy. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you at the doctor and I'm sorry for screaming at you," and again she asked, "Can we sing a song?"
I was floored.
It was then that I realized what it is to be resilient. It's bouncing back, no matter what surprise or disobedience or challenge or devastation hits me, and not because of any power of my own, but because of the grace of the One who bounced back from the ultimate devastation long before me. It's the Psalmist describing God's people going from "strength to strength" (Psalm 84:7, NIV) on this pilgrimage we call life.
It was then that I realized what it is to be resilient. It's bouncing back, no matter what surprise or disobedience or challenge or devastation hits me, and not because of any power of my own, but because of the grace of the One who bounced back from the ultimate devastation long before me. It's the Psalmist describing God's people going from "strength to strength" (Psalm 84:7, NIV) on this pilgrimage we call life.
"How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young— a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion," (Psalm 84:1-7, NIV).
Make no mistake: the people described in this Psalm were not strong by any means they could conjure up alone. They were pilgrims. On a difficult journey. Making their way through a valley.
And this valley, "the valley of Baka," wasn't just any valley. It was one of the places that the Israelites had to pass through as they travelled to Jerusalem. It was figuratively called, "the valley of weeping." The name may have come from the appearance of the balsam trees whose branches hung in the valley like tears pouring down around them, or it may have been because this part of the journey represented intense challenge. And these faithful people had to walk through it in order to get to their destination.
And this valley, "the valley of Baka," wasn't just any valley. It was one of the places that the Israelites had to pass through as they travelled to Jerusalem. It was figuratively called, "the valley of weeping." The name may have come from the appearance of the balsam trees whose branches hung in the valley like tears pouring down around them, or it may have been because this part of the journey represented intense challenge. And these faithful people had to walk through it in order to get to their destination.
But that's the thing--The passage says that they passed through the valley. They didn't stay in the valley. Somehow, they made it out on the other side.
They were not destined to remain in the low place, either in a physical sense or in a spiritual sense. They maintained a spirit of strength from God as they journeyed through the valley, through the weeping. It doesn't say that they went from stress to worry. They didn't go from complaining to despairing. They didn't go from exhaustion to resentment. Deep, dark places are very real and usually mean very real places of pain that can be very deep and very dark. The key, however, is not what happened there in the valley, but how.
They went from strength to strength. A strength that they could not have found on their own in the midst of trial and hardship. The strength of the One who was the reason for their journey. No matter what trouble came, their hearts remained steadfast, their eyes fixed on Him. He was with them through the weeping. He was stronger than the trial. "The fear of The Lord leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble," (Proverbs 19:23). Matthew Henry once said, "Those who live in the fear of God, shall get safety, satisfaction, and true and complete happiness."
They were not destined to remain in the low place, either in a physical sense or in a spiritual sense. They maintained a spirit of strength from God as they journeyed through the valley, through the weeping. It doesn't say that they went from stress to worry. They didn't go from complaining to despairing. They didn't go from exhaustion to resentment. Deep, dark places are very real and usually mean very real places of pain that can be very deep and very dark. The key, however, is not what happened there in the valley, but how.
They went from strength to strength. A strength that they could not have found on their own in the midst of trial and hardship. The strength of the One who was the reason for their journey. No matter what trouble came, their hearts remained steadfast, their eyes fixed on Him. He was with them through the weeping. He was stronger than the trial. "The fear of The Lord leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble," (Proverbs 19:23). Matthew Henry once said, "Those who live in the fear of God, shall get safety, satisfaction, and true and complete happiness."
Resilient. Journeying through the valleys of life from strength to strength. Having hearts that are not destroyed by trouble because of the confidence that God is always stronger. He is with us through the weeping.
My little girl reminded me that I need to remember the true source of my strength, even in moments that feel so overwhelming. If I keep my focus on Jesus, the One from whom all of my strength comes, I can capture those desperate feelings when they start to rise up. I can stay focused and walk with grace and with wisdom and without fear. I can live life from strength to strength.
It really shouldn't surprise me that just two weeks after that first week of October, when I started to write about what it means to be resilient, that I received a diagnosis that hurled us full-force into a valley. Into a life where we could let the valley get us down, or we could fix our eyes on Jesus and choose joy because He is joy. Strength to strength. Even in the valley. Resilient.
It really shouldn't surprise me that just two weeks after that first week of October, when I started to write about what it means to be resilient, that I received a diagnosis that hurled us full-force into a valley. Into a life where we could let the valley get us down, or we could fix our eyes on Jesus and choose joy because He is joy. Strength to strength. Even in the valley. Resilient.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention...I had a fantastic water therapy session this morning, and afterwards, I was able to walk for more than HALF of the day!!
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