Oh, I like that new background for the main page of my blog so much better! (A big thank you to Justin Lehman for granting me permission to use that stunning photo. You can check out more of his amazing art at www.justinlehman.com.) The original picture and design was only ever meant to act as a placeholder getting me initially up and running as I made the switch from Meal Train, as it didn’t really convey the feeling and message I wanted this blog to have. Too dark and maybe even slightly oppressive, seemingly too much emphasis on the trials (ha, I did indeed read into all of this with just a simple picture and color scheme), when what I want is bright and happy and hopeful.
Yes, I know that smelting is a hot, messy, often excruciating process, and yes, I know that I am still very much a work in progress. But my life no longer seems like I’m barely surviving within a constant fiery furnace of hard anymore. It doesn’t still take absolutely everything in me to continue clinging desperately to the hope that things would surely at some point become more manageable, the emotional waves less frequent, all-consuming, or completely leveling.
I love that in this photo the path isn’t necessarily clear, and it’s hard to see very far ahead, but the light is still shining through. And while perhaps not yet at a destination, where the viewer appears to be right now is surrounded by so much beauty. (So much green!) When I first saw this photo it instantly spoke to me as being symbolic of my life right now. I can feel that light and hope and beauty in my life. I’m not ignoring the obstacles, and I may not be able to see very far in the future, but I’m intentionally turning toward the light that I know is always there even amidst the dark and the difficult moments. I do remember those long nights when I fully trusted that the light was there but I simply couldn’t feel it, couldn’t see clearly past my pain. I know, it isn’t like the trials have stopped now of course, or will ever stop while I’m in this life. I’m okay with that though, genuinely at peace. I really have come to internalize the messages from Philippians 4:11-13:
11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
12 I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
I am content. I know that I can’t do this on my own, that the only way to get through is to rely wholly on the Lord. I have an abundant life, all while striving to do better and become more. I have moments, sure, but for the most part I’m not afraid of trials or whatever may come because I do have full faith that I truly can “do all things through Christ.” What a gift it has been, gaining that rock solid assurance through this journey of cancer and widowhood.
Yet another big shift for me came when I started to consciously replace the word but in my mind with and when thinking about my life. I’m not ignoring the challenges, AND I’m also not letting them overshadow the blessings or become my focus. I’m not constantly qualifying the positive in my life. Admitting things are hard or circumstances often not how I wish they were doesn’t negate the miracles and tender mercies in my life. It’s not, “Yes, I know our family’s needs have thus far been taken care of, but now that I’m widowed I don’t like that I’m forced to work and support us.” Rather it’s “I’m grateful that our family’s temporal needs have always been taken care of AND it’s been really hard adjusting to working full-time and solo parenting.” Both are true. This can apply to anything.
“I am meeting many new people and having fun new experiences AND being single is often uncomfortable and lonely.”
“I’m so grateful for access to good medical care and options and for the hope of improved health for my child AND it has been incredibly difficult watching her go through so much pain and physical challenges.”
Even better for me, though, is when I switch the order of the hard vs. the positive. I’ll acknowledge the difficulty, and then I’ve trained my brain to identify the positive(s) in the situation. That has become so much easier than it used to be.
“I really miss my mom and wish she were here with me, AND I’m so grateful for the years we had together here in Utah and the close friendship we developed and that I know I will see and be with her again after this life.”
“My children have had to deal with unfair challenges and circumstances AND I can see how they have grown and are closer to one another and have become so much more competent with life skills than I was at their ages.”
And on and on. It works every time, that handy-dandy trick of using AND instead of BUT. I believe the challenges and the positives are equally important parts of this life. It’s disingenuous to refuse to admit that things are just plain hard or unfair sometimes, and it is important to sit with and process feelings like grief, but there are also always positives when you look for them. Or rather, AND there are also always those positives when you look for them. Really truly.
I love that you shared all three of those verses from Philippians. I usually only hear verse 13 quoted, but it has a much deeper meaning when it’s put in context.