In the Hand of God
I laid in bed last night listening to the sounds of my son and daughter playing video games together in my son's bedroom. As I quietly laid there listening to their laughter, I tried to soak in the sound of it. All these years I have taken that beautiful sound for granted. I never stopped to think that one day I might not hear it anymore.
We do that as parents. We take things for granted. We celebrate the firsts - the first laugh, first word, first tooth, first step. But we miss the lasts. We don't think about the last time he sleeps in a crib, the last time we rock her to sleep, the last time we tie his shoes, or the last night they stay up late playing video games. As my son prepares to leave the nest and begin a new life of firsts with his future bride, I find myself trying to celebrate each "last". Our last vacation as a family of four. Our last trip to the cabin with just the four of us. I wonder will I know when it's the last time he will sit at my breakfast table? Will I know when we are eating our last dinner with him as a single man? Why is it that we focus on firsts and neglect lasts? Because the truth is, we don't know when something will be our last.
We live our lives in such a hurry. We rush on from day to day under the assumption that nothing will change. We don't consider that when our child leaves for school that he might not come home. We leave for work without thinking we might never hear our spouse's voice again. No thought is given to the fact that this day could be our last. No one dreams that tomorrow might bring news of cancer or death. We just move from day to day numbly assuming that nothing will change.
Although I don't always see it, God has spent the last couple of years teaching me that life is about change. If I was honest, I would tell you that I am broken. The picture I had of what I thought my life would look like is shattered in a million pieces. Nothing in my life looks like what I thought it would. I have lost who I thought I was, what I thought I wanted, and where I thought I was headed.
But sitting in the middle of these shattered pieces, sifting through the ashes left behind from fiery trials, I find what I never expected - beauty. It's funny that even though that beautiful picture of what I thought my life would be like is gone, I can see a different image emerging from the pieces, not a picture that I would have made, but a picture being painted by an Artist with a different perspective.
Broken pieces in the hand of a divine Artist come together in beautiful tapestries of light and life. So God has been hard at work rearranging the picture that I created in my head, so that I can see the picture that He has in mind. Honestly, I liked my picture better, but that picture doesn't reflect who I really am. It's not who I'm wired to be.
For two months I haven't picked up a pen and journal to write. I failed to listen to the voice of the Artist. I listened to the voices of others who caused me to question my calling and fear what might come as a result of it. I listened to Satan whispering in my ear that no one would be interested in hearing my story. What could a woman offer to others when she didn't have her own answers?
But in the noise, I hear another voice that beckons me to walk into the light with Him. He arranges the broken pieces in such a way that they catch the light and reflect beauty. He beckons me to walk with Him along the shore even though the threatening waves are never far away. He teaches me to look at them differently, see the beauty in the depths of the unknown, and trust Him.
And so even though I am learning to celebrate some lasts, I am also looking ahead to some firsts. I have learned that although I was in love with the picture that I created, my Creator is in love with me and wants to show me His picture for my life. And so I leave the remnants of my broken dreams in pieces on the floor and I start to walk over to where He is. I can see Him picking up the pieces and rearranging them in ways I never would have dreamed. And even though the new picture has missing pieces, making it appear to be broken, it is those broken places where His light shines through.
I find that this is what makes His picture the most beautiful. My picture might have looked perfect, but it might have blocked the Light. This new picture lets the Light shine through it, creating rays of color that are capable of catching the attention of others with whom I can share my story of Light. Life is about change. It's also about changing lives...and that creates the most beautiful picture of all.