Christmas stopped in for a visit this year without much fanfare. New Year’s Eve barely waved as it passed by the house. I didn’t mind. I bet you could guess this about me, but I am generally a Holiday-Over-the-Topper. I deck the halls, fa-la-la-la-la, bring a torch for Jeanette Isabella, etc., from Thanksgiving all the way until the Three Kings join us in January. This year, however, my heart just couldn’t find its way. I experienced a brief moment of panic as I contemplated having lost all zeal for this season. And, then I relaxed and reminded myself that this year has been a bit, uh, hectic.
I’m going to refrain from the specifics of my year, and just say that life doesn’t look a bit as I’d expected, not in the where, the what, the who, or the how. In fact, most days, I’m a bit speechless still, but I am here, and register that in itself is a major accomplishment. These days, it’s the little things: I opened my eyes – woohoo! I made a cup of really good coffee – yippee! I did laundry – yay! (You think I’m joking…) I try to take life minute by minute, and when I get to the next day, well, all the better. Can you relate?
Recently, someone said something akin to the idea that they couldn’t imagine how I’d made it through life this long as I wasn’t really that strong. I smiled, turned away and left them to their own misunderstanding of strength. I’ve come to know something of strength, intimately, personally. I’ve turned it inside out, spun it around, cut it down the center, swallowed it in jagged pieces. You see, what I have learned is that strength expands from the interior outward, pushing aside the fragile bits of ourselves to allow the resilient to bask in the sun. I may be little; I may be blonde; I may be quiet, but I am one tough cookie. And I have become such through bending, breaking, shattering; repeat.
But, “God never gives you more than you can handle,” right? This phrase is extrapolated from a Biblical passage to be spun in a way Paul never intended. Instead, 1 Corinthians 10:13, refers specifically to temptation. I’d venture to say that He piles it on us, layers upon layers, until we stagger, until we topple, until we crumple to our knees and crumble to dust. He does this again and again and again until who we end up becoming resembles the people with whom He began the process not at all. If He did not, we’d never grow beyond where we exist in our own stubborn stagnation. After all, what motivates better than pain? (i.e. references to the refiner’s fire). And He does this for the best reason of all: He adores us. He desires only for us to be the best versions of ourselves possible, desires us to live the lives He planned for us from the beginning of time.
Maybe you’ve experienced devastation this year. Maybe you are broken and feel razor sharp edges every time you breathe. Maybe this feels like I’ve axed into your chest and poured acid over the wounds. I’ve lived there; you know I have, and I don’t intend this to ring callous or cold. Maybe I am a bit “Pollyanna-ish” to attempt to view everything that happens, even the horrific, as a gift; I can live with being Pollyanna because, after all the debris is shoveled aside, I want only to live the life He planned. I dream of that for you, too.
He loves you. I love you, too.
Happy 2018.
The Unexpected Life 