It's another snowday Yay! Right? I love my boys and I love hanging out with them but settling video game arguments at 8:15am wouldn't be necessary if they were in school. It is the big and the little right now. One has a cold and is extra whiny. No one seems to be capable of getting their own drinks and snacks. The dog is shedding and inside too much. Garrett is making a car sound at least ninety percent of the day and has found a new scowl that he presents me with all too often. I am edgy and daddy has had a busy couple of weeks of work. Days like this, life feels messy and tired and overwhelming before my prayers have even been whispered. It's funny to me how life can go from pleasant and purposeful to patronizing and pitiful. I feel that right now. It's been a crazy couple of weeks with illness and holidays and snow and cold and fights and fun, and all of that leaves me wishing I could make it easier. I was reading something this morning that said that sometimes as we watch God paint the canvas of our lives,we want to grab a brush and cover over it with our own version of what we think it should look like. Snow days should be filled with sledding and hot chocolate. Board games should be played and puzzles should be built. Why, then, are my kids bickering and my head aching? It all just seems like such a mess and can this mess really be a masterpiece?
As I was praying through this, and putting kids in timeout, and listening to cartoons, and checking the weather, I came across something that I had read earlier in the week. It was in Psalms, chapter 35. Not only had I underlined one particular line but I had circled a word and noticing it in that moment struck a chord inside of me that needed struck. It was Psalm 35:8 and it said, “The Lord says, “I will guide you along the BEST pathway for your life””. Can you tell which word stuck out to me? I have all too often felt like my life was not what it was supposed to be. It has often felt messy and hard and less than ideal. I can remember when I realized that I was going to have two babies in less than a year, messy. When I sat with my husband when the doctor told him that the results were not what we had hoped for, messy. When I drove home from after spending three hours in a tiny room where professionals observed my baby through a one-way window and then gave me fifty pages worth of information to help us cope with the diagnosis of autism, messy. None of those moments were a part of my plan. My painted picture would have not included illness, surprises, or, in all honesty, autism. This week, I would have made the tempertures a bit warmer and the snow melt into rain. In my plans, I would always be right and do right. My kids would never fight and they would love brussel sprouts and avocado. Garrett wouldn’t hand-flap and would have good friends and be a good friend. I would not even know what stimming was or cringe when others begin to stare at it. In my work of art, there would be peace and quiet in the midst of fun and family. Chocolate would be healthy and coffee would always be hot an ready served with just a dash of cream. My picture would look different and that is the problem. It is not my work to create. I am not the artist. I have to surrender the hardest thing, myself. How is that possible without a struggle? It isn't. The only thing that keeps me going somedays is that Someone else has the BEST plans for me. He has a picture that I can’t see yet because it just isn’t done but when it is it will be a prize winner. Somehow, by grace, He is going to take this mess of mine and turn it into a canvas that could hang in galleries. He, who gives the snow and the cold and the good and bad news, is painting a masterpiece in the midst of my mess. When I feel frustrated with all of the messiness of life, when I just want to get out my eraser or yell at skies, I have to remind myself that God doesn’t forget or neglect even the tiniest details. He hung the stars, individually. He know the hairs on my baby's heads, each and every one. He sacrificed the greatest gift for me, for all of us, but I trust He would have done it just for me. He is in my mess. He made it and He loves it and, to Him, it is perfect. This life is but a blink of an eye to the Eternal One. Surrendering myself means accepting the ugly to be made beautiful, in the Master’s hands. In a book I am reading, the author puts it like this, “Hear me: whatever He does with our lives, He is good and is fighting for us in the most noble ways; He gave His Son’s life to win us back. So might He pour our lives out in difficult ways? Yes” The author goes on to say that just as we can trust the moon and stars, the rotation of the planets to Him, we can also entrust our entire lives to Him. He wants it all, even the mess.
So how do I rest in His peace while still living this crazy life of mine? The only thing I can say is that I keep going. I find my food in His daily bread. I get my mind as quiet as I can and I let Him speak to me through the same words that He has used to change centuries of lives. I accept who I am and who I am not. I see my sin and I work at surrendering, letting go of all that I want, and all that I have, and all that I think I control. I thank Him for the snow days and I thank Him for the coming spring. I finish my coffee and say amen. I get out the bathtub (my quiet place). I say the “I’m sorrys” and accept the ones said to me. I fix the broken video game and give a bearhug to the overstimulated one. I make pancakes and cereal and I trust in His best through it all. We spend the thirty minutes getting dressed and then go sledding. We watch too much TV and play a riveting game of Mall Madness. There will always be hard moments and fights and times of struggle, but I trust my mess to the Master. When I do get a glimpse at His work, I am always blessed and amazed. Those two babies that came too close are the best of friends and make great big brothers. That chronic illness that shouldn’t have applied to my husband reminds me daily of how much I love him and how lucky we are to have each other. That diagnosis of autism helped me to see the awesomeness of not being like everyone else. His plans have proven themselves over and over again. I trust this day and all the others to Author and Artist of my life.
