Right now I’m sitting in the parking lot waiting for my second round of bloodwork for the day. Thankfully the tech that took my blood the first time was extremely gentle. She made a comment about how much she hates my kind of veins – always love to hear a comment like that before they dive into your skin with a needle. I clenched my fist, looked the other way and held my breath waiting for the “pinch.” To my surprise, there wasn’t one. The needle gently slid into my vein, with no pain – hubby is going to love that line (he is deathly afraid of needles). It was quite a pleasant surprise.
You know what else is a pleasant surprise? When you are faced with an extremely difficult situation (after you’ve been saved) and you realize that no matter what is happening in your life, there will always be a sense of peace when you remember that God is in control.
I have been so focused on myself and my issues that I’ve neglected to concern myself with my loved ones who are facing trials just as big, if not bigger, than mine. My mother for instance. When she received her Alzheimer diagnosis, I accepted it for what it was. I knew that God would take care of her (and us). I knew it was all part of his plan. I also didn’t refer to Dr. Google like I normally do. At first I thought my lack of urge to run to the internet was God’s way of protecting me from freaking out.
Then last night, I realized that for a so-called warrior, for someone who spends hours and hours doing research, hiring the best consultants/specialists/doctors/attorneys to get an answer, that I was taking a different path. Instead of getting ready for battle, preparing to slay the Alzheimer giant, I’ve chosen the blissful path. The ignorant path. If I ignore it and pretend like it’s not there, maybe I won’t have to face it. I know it’s not going away . . . but not addressing the situation is just as bad as pretending it doesn’t exist.
But last night, I had no choice but to deal with it. Just spending time with my mom makes me realize how real this giant is. I was forced to meet this giant head on. I sat and cried about my mother’s health, dreading future cries to come. Because now I have to face that fact, that there will be more and more nights like these, where I would cry and hubby would console me. I am dreading the ultimate cry . . . which I have yet to have. I’m on the of the lucky ones. I have not had the misfortune of losing anyone in my immediate family.
However, as I sat and cried a calmness came upon me. It was a very envious feeling almost a jealous feeling knowing that when the time comes, my mom will be with Jesus. What a beautiful thing! How can that make me sad?
So, no matter how big or small my trials are I can always find that blissful place in my heart that reassures me that this is just temporary. That’s my Dad’s favorite saying . . . he always whipped it out in the worst of the worst times. I always hated him for saying it, because I knew he was right, but in the moment it was never helpful.
But when you have the confidence of salvation, there is peace that can not be find anywhere else. It’s like that God shaped hole in your heart that you try to fill with a job, a hobby, a man, a vacation . . . . nothing can fill it except the love of God.
And just because you kept your head above water during one trial, doesn’t mean the next will be just as easy. When I went back in for my second blood draw, I had the same tech, she made the same comment about my veins, slid the needle in very gently and guess what? It hurt like a son of a nutcracker!!! But yes Dad, it was temporary.
2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.