I’ve asked the question. I’ve heard other people ask it. Maybe you’ve even pondered it yourself. What is God trying to teach me through this?
I understand the idea behind the words, but lately, this question has kinda been bothering me. It makes it seem like God is some kind of novice instructor who doesn’t really know the best way to get through to His struggling student.
There have been a few occasions lately when I have been hesitant to verbalize my thoughts about God’s faithfulness with friends who are struggling.
I wholeheartedly believe that remembering God’s sovereignty and trustworthiness can encourage us in even the darkest of situations. And yet I’ve hesitated because I don’t want my expression of truth to sound like a cliché, especially to someone who is hurting.
One reality of living close to my aging parents is that my teenage daughters are having to process things that I never even thought about at their age.
It’s one thing for me—a 47-year-old woman who has been struggling to navigate this life of faith for decades—to juggle all the emotional and logistical balls that accompany Alzheimer’s disease and long-term care and recovery from strokes and possible hip replacement surgery and my dad living alone and whatever else the next phone call might bring.
A few weeks ago, what we thought was going to be an enjoyable evening of watching our daughter participate in her first full-length cross-country race turned into us helping her leave the race venue after a painful, season-ending injury.
Thanks to a badly dislocated knee, Lilly’s schedule looks very different now than it did a few minutes before the race. Instead of running many miles every day with her teammates, she’s doing physical therapy over lunch and getting her knee iced after school.
A lot can happen in four years.
Four years ago, my teenage daughters were 12 and eight. I was still struggling to figure out how to function best in my earlier-than-normal post-menopausal life. My mom was taking care of my dad more than he was taking care of her.
One of the fun things about being a parent of a newly independent driver is getting texts like this in the morning: “Got to school, almost ran over a girl who wasn’t watching where she was going but we both lived. (laughing/crying emoji, praise-hands emoji)”
I know. This is how they learn.
Driving alone, near-misses, maybe even some actual bumps and scrapes here and there. Eventually—hopefully—defensive driving becomes second nature.