I admit it; my life is pretty good compared to most. I co-own a house with the bank that holds my house note. I drive a really old beat up car that withstood 12 years of abuse. I have a loyal husband who despite my insane ways never stopped loving me. (He confesses that he's had homicidal thoughts when I go through my unreasonable phases). I have a wonderful, smart child who loves to pray and to sing praises to the Lord.
Nevertheless, I sometimes look to heavens and ask - Lord, take me home now!
Besides the fact that this prayer often coincides with my monthly visitor, I notice that other life conditions also trigger this response. These conditions include:
1. Lack of sleep - because I just spent the day working, then making dinner for three, bath my child, dress him for bed, read to him, then spend a few moments with my husband (who likes to be alone and read the news after he gets off work), and finally I wash the dishes, pick up the laundry, clean one small corner of the house before I fall down. Repeat this about 3-4 times a week and I just want some permanent rest.
2. Financial fears - because I just wrote all the checks for this month's bill and realized that I have not contributed to my IRA or my savings. And looking in the mirror, I see that wrinkles are making new tracks on my face, white hair is overtaking the black (not to mention that I just tossed the AARP invitation into the trash). Repeat this about 3-4 times a year, then death seems a much preferable solution to old age in poverty.
3. Marital disputes - because, well, my husband is only a man after all. There are just days when we can't seem to communicate without fighting -- it's not the words, but the tone, the insinuation or maybe our egos. It could be about furniture, house-remodeling, the price of tea in China, food, social events, child-rearing, family-visiting or just the garden variety of "do you do this just to annoy me?" Repeat this even just once a month and I want my husband to be a widower.
4. Feeling like an utter failure as a parent - because I've yelled once too many at my son when I was tired and couldn't be bothered to take the time. When I realize that I've spent more time doing everything else today than I've spent time with him. Repeat this about once or twice a day and I really just rather go home to heaven.
I don't think I'm alone in my despair. And I wish there are easy fixes to each of my problems.
Sure, it would be easy to fix the practical aspects - get some sleep or take a vacation; get a better job or manage the money more wisely; get marital counseling or have more sex; take parenting classes or resolve to give hugs not spanks.
And these things are helpful. But I don't think that they solve the problem.
I think the key is that I really have to believe in "God's way is higher than my way" -- even if I don't see it while I'm in the pits.
On the road to the cross, Jesus surely suffered more emotional, spiritual and physical trauma than this little journey called "my life." He knew that the suffering would be so great such that He asked to have "the cup to be taken away from him." (If it were the will of God.)
I think Jesus stuck to God's plan because He knew that God's way is higher. Granted, Jesus probably had the advantage of seeing God's perspective on the whole matter while he was whipped, stripped, nailed, hung, thirsted, hungered and died.
But ultimately, it was not having the perspective that fulfilled God's plan. It was Jesus actually living through the pain, the suffering, the despair and then arriving at victory.
And here lies my hope - to know that there is a happy ending. Yes, God will eventually answer my prayer and take me home. But not until I have walked through the plans He has for me - the plan to prosper me and not to harm me, the plan to bring Him glory and the plan to yield a harvest greater than I can ever imagine.
I've written to ease my pain; I've written to hear my voice; I've written for vanity; I've written for sanity; I've written for fun; I've written for laughs; I've written for me; I've written for money. But until I write for God, this talent is for naught.
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