interesting people such as Garth
Poorman, a young man who
was “searching for his bliss”. As
part of his search he decided he
wanted to travel form New York
to New Orleans the old fashioned
way, by walking. Each visitor was
unique. Some told entertaining
jokes, some played instruments,
some educated us about
their homeland; our lives were
enriched with each encounter.
There is a connection that comes
by sharing food and shelter. We
have been delighted to open
our home and learn about
different traditions, cultures and
to hear the stories of others.
Looking back through my rose
colored glasses I remember
the fun of hosting others, the
anticipation of building new
relationships and the joy of
watching my children interact
with people from all around
the world. The difficult part of
hosting - making sure the house
was clean with fresh linens on
the bed, buying groceries and
cooking, which was my least
favorite part of the preparation,
has become a faded memory.
It’s easy for me to remember
the good times and forget the
challenges when I think about
times gone by.
The past is
secure, the future is unknown. I
am grateful for the season of life
that we had the opportunity to
serve others through hostessing.
These days my big home feels
like an empty cavern. Due to
my declining health we stopped
hosting visitors a few years
ago. There are no children to
pick up after now, only one self
sufficient teenager who prefers
his independence over hanging
out with his parents. Still cooking
and cleaning to be done, over
and over again, ad nauseam.
Life does not seem as full and
I miss the chaos of juggling
children, guests, homeschooling
and homemaking. I have arrived
at the moment when I recognize
I have more time behind me
then in front of me. Perhaps
this is part of the passage of
middle age, a normal pause
in the transition of maturing, a
stage you go through when you
transition from being parents of
children to becoming parents of
adults.
I do not like this stage or phase
or whatever it is. I feel lost and
unsure of what I’m doing. I feel
concern about the future. I know
Paul tells us in Philippians to not
be anxious. I know I”m supposed
to pray about everything with
supplication and thanksgiving. I
do all of this and at some level I
know all will turn out well but, to
be honest, I still struggle. I wrestle
with my fears, wondering if the
best days of my life are over.
On good days my fears drive
me back to God, on my knees
pouring my heart out to our
Father. I pray out loud whenever
possible and sometimes what
comes out of my mouth surprises
me. I recognize the lies of the
enemy that I am entertaining
in my mind. For example, the
whispered curse of ‘You’re
best days are over” is a direct
contradiction to what scripture
tells me. I counter the curse
with the promise of “having a
hope and a future.” (Jeremiah
29:11) Many days are a wrestling
match with my mind swinging
between despair and hope.
I used to feel like a failure
because of these wrestling
matches.
Surely a mature
Christian such as I would feel
more settled, more loved, more
at peace with my spiritual walk
after all these years. This is also
a lie of the enemy. Scripture
makes it clear that we will face
many challenges in this world.
Sometimes having victory looks
like overcoming struggles, some
of the issues I used to wrestle
with I no longer do. Sometimes
having victory looks like staying
in the struggle. This means being
committed to honesty, to not
running away from the problem,
to continue to have wrestling
matches.
Someday all the good work
that was started in us will be
complete; then we will rejoice
and be at rest forever but that’s
not today and more then likely
will not be tomorrow either.
May grace abound so that we
can be met in the midst of our
struggles by our God and our
brothers and sisters in Christ. |
*You can find more information about
Mennonite Your Way at :
www.mennoniteyourway.com.
sometimes
having
victory
looks like
staying
in the
struggle.
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