Friday, October 26, 2012

The Fickle and the Fantastic

I awoke this morning, saw my daughter off to school, turned all of the lights she had turned on, off (she turns on every single light in the house in an effort to wake up in the morning...hilarious) and opened the shade to the window where I sit in the mornings. 

I had an extra few minutes to enjoy the silence before time to wake my son. 
I read through some lovely passages from other writers then just breathed,
looking at my magnolia tree through the glass. 
I spied my husband walking up from his morning run. 
I watched him for a few (I know, I know...stalker)
but relished in the moment of catching him in "his place" -

Energized, but spent...
Strong but weak...
Full of his own quiet thoughts and dreams.

Then I went and looked in on my son asleep in his bed, realizing that he's finally stretched out to the maximum of his little twin. 
I reveled a moment in his ginormousness before rubbing his back,
"I love you, buddy.  Time to wake up,"
grabbed his school clothes and started ironing, a huge smile on my face, just so filled with gratitude for my simple, blessed and beautiful life.

I stopped ironing all of a sudden.
My migraine was gone!!
It took me an hour to realize that the fog from the last few days of pain had lifted.
Prayers of thanksgiving ensued before a realization occurred...

How fickle we human beings are made.
Just yesterday I was writhing on the couch with my head in my hands
(okay, okay, writhing is a bit strong...but it makes for a better story, no?), wondering when a reprieve from the 36 hours of ache would commence.
How I was feeling that those 36 hours were interminable.
How I was wondering why God let the pain go on and on.
How I was planning what I would do the next day to survive it.
no pain...
only the blessing of forgetfulness.

Yet I didn't even notice at first, such is the capacity for humans to forget their suffering so quickly after it has been endured.
(Isn't that why they say women continue to give birth multiple times, even after the excruciating circumstances of the first delivery?  God has given us the gift of obliviousness!)

And there is my lesson for the day.
It is a miracle of human nature to tamp down those hurts which have flattened us, getting up from our prone positions in a phenomenon of resilience.
Yet we do not only find these recoveries after illnesses of our bodies.
We find them also after illnesses of our souls and spirits.

The death of a loved one...
The betrayal of a friend...
The anger and lashing out of a child...
The financial ruin of a family.

Though they are difficult lessons, I believe all of these ailments in our lives are gifts from our Heavenly Father, Who knows we must often reach bottom in order to rise up again.
For though there are times we feel we may never recover (remember, we're erratic and suddenly changeable, vastly limited by our earthly timetable), 
God gives up glimpses of hope through our suffering in order to spur us on to seek healing, to seek Him.
Once we have recovered sufficiently, He allows us to peek into the past, reminding us of how far we've come with Him in faith.
He asks us to not stare backward to relive our grief and pain.
Yet He then gifts us with the ability to flash there and back occasionally in a revelation of His blessing.

How fabulous the human mind.
How fickle but fantastic is this capacity.
What a miracle of our Beloved to give us this gift...
The gift of amnesia for life's pain coupled with the nostalgia of deliverance.

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