There are some jobs that only you can do. And some of the time, those are the jobs you don’t want.
I found myself sobbing quietly in the shower this evening, having felt slighted by my Heavenly Father. I had been crying off and on since I left choir rehearsal. I drove the speed limit and lower while tears flowed down my face as I sniffed. The last month or two had left me feeling stifled. My four year old was the catalyst of a much larger issue.
Since most of you know about the Mother’s Day incident, many other things have been happening in our world with regard to Six. I’ve been a mother since I was 17, and not a moment of that time has been my own. Yes, it’s what I chose: the drama, ungratefulness, the highs and lows. It’s what parenthood is about, even when you don’t want it to be. God thought I did so great at the first time with Kids 1-5, He decided to give me a bonus parting gift during the perimenopausal stage: Six. I was …well…po’d. And sometimes, I still am. The last couple months I have found myself right back in that spot.
It’s not because he’s an awful kid. It’s because I’ve never been free to live life the way I wanted to. While I do believe in pro-choice (and pro-sustain and pro-responsibility), that was not optional for me with the sensational six. However, I did like being a mom. Kids, are hilarious if you pay attention to them.
Anyway, Six has some unique characteristics about him, one of them being a diagnosis of ADHD, and possibly the very high spectrum of Autism. The Christian in me understands there are facts, but I believe it when God said my son is the workmanship of Christ and in Him there is no blemish…so there’s that. Plus, no weapon formed against Him shall prosper. With all of that being believed and said, there is still life to live and endure under those declarations and identifications until complete healing is manifested. It. Ain’t. Easy. A’tall.
I remember what it was like to have Kid 4, who is gifted in that way…and is pretty flippin’ stupendous (and nah, still no words from him). Having a child who has those opportunities requires quite a bit of maneuvering, flexibility and patience. I was annoyed with God and in the shower as I sobbed, and asked God, “When is it my turn?” My turn to make my own choices? To not have to give up the things nearest and dearest to my heart? To use the bathroom without having a child of any age barge into the bathroom? I don’t think I’ve been able to pee alone since 1993.
And He responded. He always does…but it’s not always what you want to hear. The visual I was given was Revelation 6:10, where the martyred saints ask how long they have to wait. What was revealed to me is I was basically asking, how long I had to wait. His answer is the same – until the number of days has been fulfilled. It made me cry harder. All I saw was me, 62 years old, and all of my life gone. Not spent in any manner enjoyable to me.
He continued to speak though. For the last couple months, the Lord has also been speaking to me of one word in particular. It’s a dirty little word people like to pretend they understand, and probably do to varying degrees….but there are levels to it. We dislike this word almost as much as we dislike submission: Sacrifice. The Lord has been calling me away from some duties in some areas of church. I. LOVE. THOSE. AREAS. They make me feel good. Loved. Included. Not left behind or outcast. I have friends. There are events. With quality, good food. And to make matters worse, the Lord has asked me to step aside for awhile. Because…my little person needs me in this season. I keep rebelling against it because….what about ME? So as I cried for 40 minutes in the shower, God kept talking, I kept crying and when I got out, He was STILL talking. lol!
While we talked about many things, he mentioned Abraham and Issac, Joseph, David, and the final mention of sacrifice came from an unexpected place: Jonah 2:2-3,7-9. He reminded me of a recent sermon Christine Cain did at our church immediately after the women’s conference last weekend. It was titled Endurance. And it is another word I had been hearing.
And after my discussion with my Lord, He gifted me with something: rest.
It is easy in times like these to forget we are not our own. We are purchased with the price of the blood of Jesus. It is costly and precious. And if we are saying we want to share in his life, this is what it is: sacrificing. Having the Garden of Gethsemane moments as I had this evening: if there be ANY other way, let this cup pass from me. But not my will but your will be done. I’m not sweatin’ blood, but crying real tears. I’m quite sure the Lord was enjoying his mother and father, his siblings and his besties. Even though He knew what Judas Iscariot would do, did it hurt Him any less???? Betrayal is betrayal, even if you know about it. Even for Jesus Christ, the son of the Living God. He was a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief. That’s what it says in Isaiah…and if He experienced this and we’re joint heirs to the kingdom, it means the converse is true as well…we are partakers in his suffering.
This is not all doom and gloom. I got a new job and no longer work at the plantation! My hub’s new employment is coming along, and things are really pretty good financially too. But more on that later.