Recently, I had a
party. It was a big one. If you’re
wondering why you weren’t invited I’ll tell you that, although the party was
huge, the guest list was small. My husband came for a short time before going
to work. My oldest daughter was invited but it really wasn’t her kind of thing.
My mom had other plans.
I served mostly sour foods.
There were balloons everywhere, all popped; and a large pool for diving, swimming,
or wallowing. The pool was full of self—self-pity, self-doubt, and
self-loathing. There was also a very shallow wading pool for self-esteem but I
didn’t spend much time there. Most enticing, was the petty-fountain, dripping
with free flowing whys, hows, and whats. I sat with my popped balloons, sour
snacks, and pity pool making the most of every minute.
I dove into the pool thinking
about how a year ago my husband lost his job of twenty-five years when the
theatre program he had built from the ground up was reduced to nothing. Angry
that one year later, the company I had given my time and heart to had closed. Ruminating
over money owed to me that would easily see us through until I find work but will
not be paid. Frustrated over the mistake I made in filing for unemployment
insurance that will delay a check coming for another two weeks.
I swam through pain and sorrow
about my youngest daughter and our perpetually fragile relationship. I trudged
to the deep end, and wallowed in the possibility of losing our house, how to
buy groceries, or put gas in the cars. And what about the world falling apart
all around us—corrupt cops and cop killers, Facebook rants, and terrorists?
I dragged myself out of the
pool, and picked up some “petty-fors” to dip in the fountain. Why could no one
stay at my party? Why am I always short on money? How is it that I have energy
to clean every room in the house but mine? What’s the city ordinance on the
possession of dust bunnies? Why do I have jowls, and none of my friends do? Why
have select facial hair follicles gone rogue? Why me? Why? How? What?
On Sunday, I got to spend time with my long time friend, Jean. I invited her to my party and she
accepted. She even brought a few of her own sour snacks and popped balloons. She
swam by my side in the pool, sampled the nasty food, and took a turn dipping “whys”
in the petty fountain. We talked, we laughed, we cried; and then took a short walk.
As we walked, Jean commented,
“You know, Satan loves to attack us through our children.” I stopped in my
tracks. “But God has access to their hearts.”
There was the crux of it.
All the other struggles are just logistics, life challenges that can and will
be overcome. But our children are at the tender nucleus of our souls—our Achilles’
heels that cannot be controlled or forgotten—only loved and covered in prayer. Of
all my recent trials, the one with my precious daughter had caused me to plan
and execute a party like none before. Satan wants us to live in self-doubt and
pity—and I complied.
Once I succumbed to that
darkness, the bog of depression began to suck me in like quicksand. But God
sent my cherished friend to say just the right things at just the right time.
There was such comfort in those words. Remembering that I am really not in
control. That Satan targets our vulnerabilities, that God is even more
interested in my daughter’s wellbeing than I am; AND has complete access to her
heart.
It was then that I piled up
the rancid food and listless balloons. I shook my head at the energy wasted on
the petty fountain. Next, I drained the toxic water from the pool, aware of the
real, but no longer consuming presence of the heap of debris. I allowed the pool to fill with crystal clear
Living Water. I opened my arms wide, fell back into the pool and let myself
float, simply float.
I love the way you express yourself in writing Julie. Your descriptions are so perfect and your insight is rare.
ReplyDeleteJulie I love your heart! You have put words to the way I feel at times. You make me laugh and cry at the same time. Next time you have a party, I'll bring the lemons;) You are an incredible soul!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely beautiful and perfect surrender.
ReplyDelete