Joy in loss

I have recently read the journey of suffering of one blogger who had a miscarriage.  With eloquence and tremendous sensibility, she describes the sadness, the fear and the sense of loss she felt throughout her ordeal.  As I read her story, I cried.  I cried for the child she never got to hold.  For the thousands of women who, as I write, will not get to soothe a newborn's cry, or stroke their gentle cheeks.  I cried for little bellies swollen from hunger, and shoeless feet bleeding from winter.  And I cried for myself.

When I was very young-we are going back to the prehistoric era now- I believed that, if I loved God with all my heart and lived for Him, my life would be spared from suffering.  The reward for my shiny existence would translate in a life free of chronic illness, or "complicated" relationships, or whatever other ailment affects the human race.  Ten years into my struggle with digestive issues and beyond, I stand corrected in my doctrine.  My struggles showed me that life is not as tidy and linear as my ideological lens had wished it would be.  Life is often messy and difficult-but God is good.

My biblical heroes haven't exactly earned a free pass in their earthly pilgrimage, either. These people have toiled much, failed often and sorrowed deeply at times-yet God ushered them in heaven's hall of fame. Moses missed out on the Promised Land, his longing eyes beholding the very essence of his journey.  For nearly a decade, David ran for his life, persecuted by the one whose torment he availed.  Jeremiah wept at the destruction of  Jerusalem and God's holy temple.  Paul toiled with a thorn in his flesh -something that bothered him enough to plead God thrice for its removal.  And Jesus...  Jesus died. 

I still remember the evening I knew something was wrong.  One bite into a luscious Granny Smith apple, my throat was on fire.  I lay down, and my abdomen felt like a load of rocks.  For weeks and months following, my distended abdomen told the story of an invisible struggle that brought a new normal to my physical functions.  Those were months of fearing, wandering a desert of question marks, and diet restrictions, and medication side effects.  The "what if" and "if only"  lurked constantly in my thoughts, preying on my fragile condition and threatening to collapse my world into despair.

Ten years later, I might still be wandering the same desert, pounding at the same question marks, stroking the same "what if"s-but Christ changed everything.  He came and moped my tear-stained soul with strokes of light and laughter.  He taught me how to walk again -hope again- laugh again. He held my heart on solitary walks and nourished it with rainbows and The scrolls.  He came arrayed with strength and comfort - and what He spoke, I became.   In His presence, I believe all things, hope all things, endure all things. 

Christ changes everything.

"For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen, for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." (2 Cor.4:17,18)















And then there was summer

Michal and I have been in our townhouse for over a year now, and our décor is still a work in progress.  After numerous trips to Home Sense, a hundred purchases and a hundred minus one returns, I am still looking.  For what?  For that perfect, flawless "thing" that will accentuate the square corners of my dining room table or the reflective surface of my mirrored dresser.  That structure that will fill my empty nook underneath the small living room window. That artwork that will dress the airy grey walls in hues of warmth and summer-eternal summer.  It is no secret in my circle that I am obsessed with all things sparkling.  My eyes light up when light shatters into rainbow as it pierces through a crystal chandelier.  I love the way diamonds explode with flames of color as the sun bursts through brilliant facets.  My cheeks and my hands tremble at the caress of soft and furry blankets.  And the pulse of all these likes is color- explosions of vibrant, deep tones of reds, blues and gold.

Perhaps my obsession with all things colored and shiny can be traced to the elements of summer.  This season of non-stop sunshine has always been my favorite.  In summer, the whole of creation is flooded and fed by consuming, fiery sunlight.  Seagulls and dolphins, ocean and sky roar their acoustics beneath the gallop of the sun.  Everything is full of life, everything glows...   I enjoy beyond words the thousand shades of green bursting toward the translucent skies.  My fingers delight in the soft texture of flower petals as they brazenly chase the knight of the firmaments.  My palate is continually stimulated  by soft, ripened fruit that will restore the nutrients winter stole.  All I want to do is be outside-cradled by warmth and infused by light until my every cell is nourished and restored by its healing rays.

My obsession with summer can in turn be traced to my desire for God.  God is light-at all times, in all seasons, everywhere.  Because of Him, the birds outside my window fill my ears with their continual chirp of joy.  He is the author of the resident splendor of roses, and dahlias, and linden.  It was His idea-and only His- to fill the oceans with creatures ornate with iridescent sheen.  It was His creative genius that endowed the tiger both his fur stripes and his predatory moan.  It was in His heart to fill the skies with wings and the air with aromas - to fill our ears and our lungs with transparent joy.






This parcel of the Milky Way which is our home-and the galaxies beyond- are an unveiling of Him.  We marvel before the wonders we taste and see and smell - and they are all a reflection of His limitless command.  He spoke that which was within Him-and it came: extravagant, overflowing, overwhelming majesty.  "The heavens declare the glory of God.."  -glory that every being made in the likeness of Adam can behold with unveiled faces.  He is beautiful, and our desire for all things lovely authenticates our origin in Him.

I am enjoying the last morsel of summer with the window open, the birds continually serenading me with their song.  Soon, the rains will start and the glow of summer will be a faint memory on my fading tan and my birdless tree.  My hunt for the perfect "thing" to dress up my living room will continue.  It's okay, I have come to realize, to like all things sparkly and shiny, soft and velvety.  These small treasures remind me of Him - His awesome wonder, His brilliance, His joy.  I see the auburn maple and the lilac in my neighbor's yard, I hear the chatter of the birds and I long for Him.  Summer will soon pass away and my heart is at rest-in all seasons, at all times, everywhere, He remains.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows his handiwork." (Psalm 19:1)


Christmas

 Mary drew her Son close to her breast, the smell of His newborn skin enveloping her senses.  She could feel His breath exhaled in a soft mi...