Last year through all of our struggles, when I would walk in Maggie's preschool, I could take one look at her amazing teacher and just start crying. See, I felt like I knew her, felt like I could trust her, felt like it was okay to show her my true, sad self. She always went above and beyond for our family--brought Maggie home from school, visited me when I was in the hospital, brought me flowers when she knew I was having other procedures done. Texted me to check in on us. She not only loved Maggie (and Elliott) but she loved our entire family. I felt so supported through her school.
Now I am back to square one. Now I am just that mom dropping her kids off at school--I look like I have it all together. Right now, I have no real connection and feel strange because what I need is to talk about Norah, to let people know my story. But right now I can't do that. Looking back I can see God's hand again in this, in the timing of our suffering. Because He knew I would need support in the every day--in the taking kids to school, in the mundane life tasks, in all the interactions I had.
I began a new Bible study class today, and while I know a few people doing the study, probably 95% of the women there I have never met. We had to introduce ourselves and tell everyone in the group a few short phrases to describe us. My heart started racing as we went around the room. Each person said they were a wife and a mother and named off the names and ages of their kids. What do I say? Do I say I have three kids? Do I only mention Maggie and Elliott? Do I ignore the fact that I am on the verge of tears right now because no one knows me, knows what I have been through? Panic started to sink in. Please, Lord don't let me cry on the first day in front of all these new people! It came to be my turn--"I am Elizabeth Cook. I am a wife and mother ( I couldn't bring myself to say my children's names and ages). I am a transplant to St. Louis. I am a musician and a teacher. I am broken." Then the tears came pouring out. This was as much as I could say without saying too much, without letting all these strangers in my life too deeply.
Everyone is broken. Everyone has a story. No one has a perfect life. We all have pain and grief and suffering and heartache. We all have a long way to go to get to heaven. We all have things on our heart, things we can't share with strangers. But a light bulb went off today. God already knows my story--in fact, He orchestrates my story. I shouldn't have to hide from it. I am still learning how He is going to use this for His glory--to bring more people to Him.
Our leader left us with this quote by John Newton from "The Utterance of the Heart"
"Jesus is the balm for grief, an amend for loss, a
motive for every duty, a retraint from every evil, a pattern for all called to
do or suffer, a principle sufficient to constitute the action of every day
life."
She asked us to write down which of those things we needed the most from Jesus right now and go back in April when we finish our study of Romans and see how He has worked through them. I am just praying He continues to heal me and to dry my tears. I so desperately want to go back to the "me" of a couple years ago. The "me" who didn't cry at the drop of a hat, the "me" who didn't have to talk to her children about death and about burying their sister, the "me" that was healthy and never worried about fertility problems, the "me" that was fun and not always the downer in the room. But now I am just different--I am redeemed in so many ways. I am alive and well enough to be here and live this life with Greg and Maggie and Elliott. And maybe I was becoming the "me" that didn't need Jesus quite so much because I had it all handled on my own. Now I know I truly can't do this on my own!
1 comment:
I really loved these last lines, "And maybe I was becoming the "me" that didn't need Jesus quite so much because I had it all handled on my own. Now I know I truly can't do this on my own!" HUGS and hope for healing.
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