The week I described in the last post was a rough week. I literally felt beat up by the end of the week. Throw in Chick Fil A Appreciation Day that same week, I was whooped. I spent Friday night and most of Saturday in a seminar to learn how to teach English as a Second Language. My shoulder did not agree. I spent Sunday morning trying to move as little as possible. Sunday night I found my drugs and woke up almost a new gal on Monday morning. Then Tuesday came.
Tuesday I get calls, texts, and was witness to a lot of crazy “stuff” going on with my village folks. Broken relationships, spouses leaving their jobs, AC’s overflowing, Dryers not working, cars not starting. Craziness. And requests for prayers. Lots of prayers said. Lots of prayers answered. Wednesday seemed so calm compared to Tuesday. Thursday was ok. Friday I got hit in the head at work and subsequently jacked my neck up. I felt like I was back to the beat up week.
Here is the other side of things: In the middle of all the physical drama my body had on it I realized at some time on Sunday between lying around and going to church Sunday night that I was being attacked. Now I am not one to say “Satan is doing this” Or “Satan is doing that” but sometimes I believe the Lord allows crazy stuff to come to make us lean on Him more. Press in to Him. Trust Him. Ask for help. Whatever it was it was not nice. I felt beat up and run over. And I was tired of hurting. I was tired of my people having drama. So I dragged my self over to the foot of the cross and asked Him to take care of it. Of them. Of me. That in the midst of all the crazy feeling stuff His voice, His hand would be most visible. Didn’t change much about how my shoulder or neck felt, but it changed how my heart felt. How my view was colored. My vision. Perspective.
It is like one of those movies that you watch and then at the end they show you how everything falls together. Almost like they show a person standing in a crowd and the camera shows how all these people bump by that person in that crowd. And then show up that week in their lives. At the deli. At school. At their job. Like that movie “Crash” it all tied together. I began to see how God was weaving this storyline through all the craziness.
I have been reading Jennie Allen’s book “Anything” And I can only read a couple of pages at the time then I have to stop. It is just full of truth. Of stuff that is in your face. As I have been reading it the past two weeks it has spoken to the theme I felt I have been in the midst of learning. Struggle. Can’t live with it, but you can’t grow without it.
I saw a twitter from Life is Good and it said “Every flower must grow through dirt” And I thought about that. It is true. If it comes from a seed. From a bulb, it must come up through the dirt.
You know the parable about the seed and the soils? I have always viewed that from the perspective of the farmer. Or the sower. Never really thought of myself as the seed. I know it is really about the soil but run with me on this. We talk about the “harvest is plentiful, but the workers few.” We talk about fig trees and being in the vine. But in all the conversation I have never thought of myself as the tree when it was little. Baby tree not even a stick yet. Coming up through the dirt.
(As I say this I hear the line from A Bugs Life “it’s a rock. Noooo it’s a seed. No. It’s a rock. Noooo it’s a SEED. The rock is a seed!” But I digress)
That little seed has to do it’s thing. Grow. Roots grow down, flower grows up. It must rely on an unseen force for water. And trust that the soil it is in will sustain it. It grows green and eventually buds, then opens- beauty for all to see. What a process. And how patient we are as we see the flower from the gardener side of things. We know it takes time. Patience. Fertilizer. Water.
But as I think about myself being the flower how impatient am I? Completely. I want to be a flower budding and showing off my petals TODAY. I don’t want to worry about pressing through the dirt. The Mud. Trusting someone else to provide water for me. I can do that on my own. Well, umm not really. But I want to do it in MY time. I can make that happen. Well, umm not really.
So why am I so impatient when struggle comes? It is part of the process. In God’s word it is a guarantee.
I will talk more on that later in the week. It’s good. Hang with me. And until then press on, grow down, and grow up.
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