My "Problems" in Perspective

I used to think that I had problems--a frustration with my children, a fight with my husband, an insecurity within myself. These things seemed so huge to me, and don't get me wrong, they were at the time. When something goes wrong in our world everything seems to come crashing down. Many times in my adult life I have felt like life just wasn't fair and that my world as I knew it was falling apart.

Now I realize that all of those little things were just day to day troubles that really had no lasting affect on my job as a mother, on my marriage, or who I am in Christ. But now I honestly feel like my world really is falling apart. My problems seem so huge, so "right there in my face" to the point that I can't go a day or even an hour without feeling like I am going to fall apart myself. My problems now involve my dilemma of how to find the words to say when my mom says how awful it is to be alone and how hard it is to move forward when the one you're supposed to move forward with isn't there. My problems consist of me trying to shove the images out of my head of a man that can hardly swallow his pain medication because cancer has overtaken his body and he's in the process of dying. My problems consist of my son telling me that he misses his Papa and is sad that Jesus took him away. My problems are trying to pretend that things are getting better because that's what everyone expects (and what I expected, for that matter) when they are really getting so much worse.

My problems are different now. My pain is more real that I ever thought it could be. But my trust in the Lord is much stronger. I know that in my despair that He is the only one who can pull me out. He has given me a desire to try to find happiness in the midst of sorrow. He has given me so much joy in my marriage and He has given me unbelievable friends to lean on. He has also given me the gift of being able to understand pain and I pray that through Him I can empathize with those right in the midst of their own pain.

The grief counselor that met with our family when we started hospice with Dad helped me find the words to say to Jacob during Dad's final days. She kept telling me that I was equipping him with tools that he would use later in life--that by understanding death (as much as he could) at such a young age, that he would be able to face any tragedies that could come his way. Each encounter with sadness and sorrow was one more tool in his box that he could pull out one day to help someone else to get through a difficult time.

How true for myself, too. But as much as I don't want to carry around this toolbox, I know that God has placed me in this position for a reason. I pray that He can heal me, strengthen me, and use me for His glory. I pray that He uses these tools to build me into someone a little more like Him--someone that has seen sadness, but someone who can rejoice and praise God in the midst of it all knowing that there will come a day when every tear will be wiped away and sorrow will be felt no more. It's the hope of that day that motivates me, that excites me, and that pushes me forward closer to the goal of eternity with my Savior.