There
are times of stress in life, where life simply happens. Things are unorganized, days are messy, tasks are
forgotten, car keys are misplaced, windows are left down and it rains. You
spill your coffee on your white shirt, you’re stuck in traffic and late for
work. That’s life.
Then
there are times of stress in life, where you feel like you are under attack. And yes let’s be direct
and honest here – I am talking about the attack of the enemy, the devil. There
are some things which just come straight from the pits of hell, and there is no
other satisfying explanation.
I
saw this at work in my life last week. On Sunday, I began to finally feel like
I had perhaps survived the attack and would indeed carry on to reflect upon it.
Like someone emerging from a week spent underground, I am still blinking at the
light of day while the mind-fog clears. Sometimes I can’t even perceive what is
going on until it is over and normalcy has returned.
The
devil is no gentleman, he attacks us when we are weakest.
My
week started with a phone call from a dear friend. She has a terminal illness
and had to be taken to the emergency room. She spent most of the week there,
where they told her she is bleeding internally, her sickness is progressively
worsening, and sorry but we don’t know what else to tell you really. I sat with
her and she tried to be strong so that I wouldn’t be sad, but in the end we
both cried because there’s not much else to do than alternate praying with
crying.
Her
daughter stayed with us while her mom was in the hospital, because they don’t
have any family here. This proved as a blessing because she helped to entertain
my little ones when I was exhausted and finding it really difficult to give
them the love they need. The sounds of playing with playdoh provided a
delightful background noise to my desperately needed devotions.
My
allergies kicked in when the heater turned on this week (because I am allergic
to dust – how stupid is that?). So I was plugged and congested with watery eyes
and head pressure and that feeling like I’m underwater and can’t hear what is
going on around me.
Knowing
my only safeguard left was the peace of my own home and marriage, the attack
also came here. My husband and I got into several entirely pointless arguments
which went nowhere and accomplished nothing. I reverted to my teenage self and
did some stomping and door-slamming. I said more apologies than usual this
week, and did some good old-fashioned feeling bad for myself, alternated only
with beating myself with the you’re-a-failure stick.
My
one year-old presented a reaction to a vaccine shot, and was madder than a bull
for most of the week. His ear-splitting screams were enough to make my heart
race and my hands clammy. My two year-old is now old enough to recognize when
mommy is stressed, and clings to me like he knows I might run into the woods
and never return. (His assessment is not far from the truth).
A
friend calls, but I know I can’t answer because she is that one friend who will
see right through my professional put-together voice and know that I am a mess.
When I don’t answer she leaves me a text reminding me that she is thinking of
me and do I need anything. I burst into tears immediately, grateful to be
thought of. I know I can ask for help, but sometimes in survival mode you just
can’t see beyond your immediate situation, nor lift one more finger of effort
to even think about it or ask for it. It is good that this week does not
represent a typical week for me. A typical week for me does not feel like incessant nails on a
chalkboard.
Oasis
in the desert, one of my assignments for school is to practice meditating on Psalm 23, and reflect on what it means to me. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in
want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters,
he restores my soul.” v1-3
I ended each day this week by flopping down on my
bed with my Bible in front of me and pouring out my tears of exhaustion and
grief to God. He makes me rest, he knows I am weary and he gives me quiet
through it all. He provides everything I need, I am humbled by phone calls from
people who love me and care about me and are praying for me and my sick friend.
Grace comes in so many forms. Kind words and tears are shared and I am not in want of anything at all, not
anything.
Through the heaviness of grief, homework gets done,
dinner gets cooked, babies get fed. I am anxious and jumpy and I need more
sleep. Somehow I am able to prepare a sermon for our healing service, God is
present, more tears and grief are shared under the Cross of Christ. I once
again can’t believe how truly blessed I am to be a child of God. I wish my
friend was there to know all about this goodness but she is at home and she is sick and dying
perhaps (I am in denial).
The valley of
the shadow of death makes everything a little foggy, but God is present and
meets all of my needs and uses me in my weakness for His glory, “for his name’s sake” (v3). The devil may
attack my weakness, but God uses my weakness for himself. It’s as if He
whispers lay down Amy, be weak, be loved,
and let me be God. Nothing like the Word to change my perspective!
I am reminded again of my favorite quote from Corrie
Ten Boom: “God’s light shines the brightest in the dark.” There is no presence
like the presence of God with me in the valleys.
Oh
Lord, thank you for being so good to me. Thank you for providing for every
need, in every way. Thank you for your Word and your truth and your presence.
Thank you for making your presence known in times of suffering. In Jesus name,
Amen.
