(this is a link to a little video I created)
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Secret Of Being Content
Our Bible class this morning focused on being worn out emotionally. You might say I could personally relate to this feeling. Whenever life becomes too difficult, I send my sister an email that simply says, "I am weary". She rarely needs clarification or asks me to elaborate, and yet knows exactly how to encourage me.
Lately I've been struggling with being content in every aspect of my life. It seems as though everyone around me is moving on in some way. They are changing jobs, buying new homes, or relocating to new cities. I often feel as though the days stretch out ahead of me without any hope of variation or progress. I'm reminded of lyrics from a song by The Weepies: "the whole world is moving, and I'm standing still".
I'm not particularly proud of these musings. In fact, they often take me by surprise. I honestly would not welcome the chaos and stress that inevitably surround such upheavals. I constantly tell people that I crave calmness, so am puzzled by these longings for change.
I feel as though God is providing gentle reminders that we are indeed making forward progress. Last weekend, I watched in awe as Jason and his brother walked their sister down the aisle at her wedding. There was a time when Jason had to be moved from bed to wheelchair on a board. Now he walked with a proud look of concentration on his face.
When Jason first came home from the hospital, he was unable to visit his mother's home because of the stairs that led up to her door. These were actually the first stairs he eventually attempted. It took three people (one of them being a rather terrified wife) and a cane to make that initial climb. This week when we stopped by to deliver a piece of Jason's birthday cake to his mom, he fairly bounded up those steps in his eagerness to see her.
Just yesterday I came across a copy of an email that my sister sent out to friends and family while Jason was in the ICU. It was written shortly after he started waking from his coma. It said, "He looked around and looked at Donna, and seemed to have no recognition of her at all. She was devastated." Now every single time I enter the room, Jason's eyes light up and he smiles as though he's been waiting all day to see my face.
"Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning." (Lamentations 3:21-23)
Lately I've been struggling with being content in every aspect of my life. It seems as though everyone around me is moving on in some way. They are changing jobs, buying new homes, or relocating to new cities. I often feel as though the days stretch out ahead of me without any hope of variation or progress. I'm reminded of lyrics from a song by The Weepies: "the whole world is moving, and I'm standing still".
I'm not particularly proud of these musings. In fact, they often take me by surprise. I honestly would not welcome the chaos and stress that inevitably surround such upheavals. I constantly tell people that I crave calmness, so am puzzled by these longings for change.
I feel as though God is providing gentle reminders that we are indeed making forward progress. Last weekend, I watched in awe as Jason and his brother walked their sister down the aisle at her wedding. There was a time when Jason had to be moved from bed to wheelchair on a board. Now he walked with a proud look of concentration on his face.
When Jason first came home from the hospital, he was unable to visit his mother's home because of the stairs that led up to her door. These were actually the first stairs he eventually attempted. It took three people (one of them being a rather terrified wife) and a cane to make that initial climb. This week when we stopped by to deliver a piece of Jason's birthday cake to his mom, he fairly bounded up those steps in his eagerness to see her.
Just yesterday I came across a copy of an email that my sister sent out to friends and family while Jason was in the ICU. It was written shortly after he started waking from his coma. It said, "He looked around and looked at Donna, and seemed to have no recognition of her at all. She was devastated." Now every single time I enter the room, Jason's eyes light up and he smiles as though he's been waiting all day to see my face.
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