Savoring the suffering

Ecclesiastes 7:2-3 It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better and gains gladness.


Let me just put this out there:  I love eating.   Going out to eat, cooking for people, holiday meals, sharing dinner with a friend...all of it.    All-inclusive food in resorts and on cruises? Yes, please.  YES.  I just LOVE it.  I read this Twitter post yesterday and it made me laugh:  "Dear men, Actually our dream isn't finding the perfect guy, it's being able to eat without getting fat. Sincerely, women."  True story!


So, when I recently read Ecclesiastes 7 (after listening to the song story for this song - more on that later), I was confuzzled at first.  Based on experience, the logic struck me as a little strange.   A house of feasting is fun.  But, I've been to the house of mourning on a few occasions.  Not so fun.   When I think of mourning, I think of September 11.  I was still living in NYC on what started off as a perfect Tuesday.  After the planes hit, I saw fear and disbelief on the faces of people in the streets.  I watched those buildings fall with my own eyes.  I know people who lost loved ones.  I know people who survived.  My brother-in-law was a cop who worked down there in the days and weeks that followed.  I have never seen so much mourning in my life as I did in the time following that horrific day.  


But I have also never seen so much hope. I remember that my church was packed for months after that.  Heroes abounded.  Random acts of kindness spread.   New Yorkers were actually nice to each other.  Even though I deeply wish it never happened, that Tuesday changed a lot of people, for the good, forever.  Tragedies have a way of reminding us how short life is.  That's what Solomon is talking in that verse.  Mourning reminds you to live well.  Now. 

Chances are you've dealt with intense sorrow at some point in your life.  There are plenty of things worse than divorce, but divorce is one thing I can speak to.  The sorrow of betrayal is deep.  The humiliation is terrible.  Life is interrupted, lies are exposed and confusion abounds.  Sometimes the hurt is so heavy that it truly is hard to breathe.  If you've been there or in a million other places of pain that doesn't make sense, you know. Yet, I can say this now:  More than three years after the worst of the worst days, I wouldn't trade that pain for the world.  I've never felt closer to God and I've never felt God was closer to me.  Friends surrounded me.  My kids gave me unspeakable joy and most days, they were the only reason I smiled.  That pain helped me more than it hurt me.  It taught me some very valuable lessons about life and love, and made me appreciate times of "feasting".  The tears stung but, like a good cleaning, they scoured my heart (Ecc. 7:3 MSG) and made it glad.


I guarantee you, at the time I wasn't thinking "Phew! I'm glad life SUCKS right now because my heart really needs some scouring!"  I'm not that wise (at all).  Looking back though, I see the good in it.  I see how it's helped me help others and how I'm a better woman and mother for it.  I'm still learning (sometimes the hard way), but definitely an improved Sarah.  


The other day something happened that hurt me. Minor, but it just opened up a lot of other wounds and I found myself sulking around and wanting Ben and Jerry's.  That night I heard the song I've linked to below (which led me to the chapter in Ecclesiastes) and it reminded me that there is no hurt on earth that God can't handle.  And just when you think you can't take one.more.second., the hurt and the Healer collide.  


Whatever you're facing today, as painful as it may be, savor the suffering.  Breathe it in 
deep and know that not a tear is wasted.  Let your heart be glad.  You're alive.

The shame game

Imagine the bacteria.

I was ashamed, He called me beautiful...now I'm Yours, You call me beautiful. -  Forever and a Day

_____________________

Here's something that's outrageously pitiful to admit (and probably reason why I'm single #192), I often lay down at night and my mind won't stop producing clever status updates.  It's obnoxious.  Sometimes, i just can't turn off the jokes.  The wheels in my heard are constantly spinning.  Unfortunately, the short term memory wheels are a little rusty these days.  They're pretty much, wait...what?

I also often think of what people think of me.  "What?", you say?  "The girl that feels the need to stick her head under high-powered hand dryers just for laughs...she cares what people think?"  I do.  And I think of what it is they're thinking.  Most of which they're probably not thinking at all, but in my head they are. And then I stress.

As an example of the absurdity, here's what it's like to be inside my head sometimes:

Jane Doe:  Hi Sarah, <insert ever awkward side hug here> where are the midget wrestlers?

Me:  "Heyyyy girl (cause I always have to say that)...they're with their dad today."

My brain:  Good one.  She's probably going to think you had them out of wedlock or something. Maybe you should say "ex-husband" next time.  Oh, but ex-husband sounds so...bitter.  She'll probably think you're some bitter divorcee, on the prowl for a new man, probably her husband.  Great.  

I often play this game with myself.  I'm sometimes embarrassed when people see me out in public, wrangling in two wild animals (children), with no wedding band on.  Oh, it's not so bad when the midget wrestlers are behaving like angels, but that happens (way) less often than I'd care to admit.  I feel like people eye my ring finger and think "tssk, tssk, tssk".

When I first started going to my new church, I was a little embarrassed by my marital status, or lack thereof.  No one there knew my story.  Many still don't.  Its not like you want to sign your kids into Sunday school, and promptly announce the reason for your divorce. It's not cool. And it's not necessary. Oh, but it's tempting.

You see, I thought I did everything right. Dated for two years. Went through pre-marital classes.  Took personality tests to analyze our compatibility. Got my dad's approval.  Got my pastor's approval.  Married in church.  Waited two years before babies.  Yet still, it all blew up in my face. And I think "how did I not see it?!" And then I feel stupid.  And ashamed.

I sometimes feel the need to justify myself.  Justify the divorce.  Explain that I waited over two years before I even went through with it. Explain his unwillingness to change. Explain the fact that I called my pastor in NY to get some counsel about it.  Explain how difficult asking my ex to move out was for me.  And a million other things I dealt with during that time (none of which are blog-appropriate).

During those times though, I often call that familiar verse to mind:  "Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.  Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated... (Is. 54)".  

I have felt shame. And I most definitely have been humiliated.  Those times were moments though, not a state of being.  Not caused by my decisions.  And not who I am.  I know that I know that God and I have dealt with this.  I know that, to the very end, I honored my commitment to God and to my spouse.  I know that I received Godly counsel from my pastor in NY (which was a godsend, love you PJR and Evelyn!) and that it meant more to me than they'll ever know.  I know that the few friends I love and and respect and trust more than anyone in the world supported me.  God doesn't condemn me, so why do I feel like if others do, it matters? More over, why do I feel I condemn myself?  

Instead of lending myself to those feelings, I want to let my life speak in the here and now.  I can have joy. I can have peace. I can attempt to raise normal human beings.  I can speak to others going through similar situations, telling them there is a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.  I can live without shame, leaving the past where it is, but appreciating all it has given to my present and future.

Choosing to see...

What if your blessings come through raindrops, what if your healing comes through tears?  What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise? 
____________________

I heard a commercial for a jewelry company the other day. The last line said "you shouldn't have to settle on the engagement rings of your dreams."  Really??  It's crazy to me that some may consider "settling" on a diamond to be so cruel.  Yet, sometimes we (I) get so comfortable in how lucky we are, that we begin to have a very warped perception of suffering.

Suffering isn't a smaller diamond than you'd like (hey, you're getting married).
Suffering isn't singleness (you definitely won't get in a fight tonight).
Suffering isn't that there are no Starbucks within a 1 mile radius (you just saved $4.00).
Suffering isn't the fact that Josh Elliott hasn't realized I'm the woman of his dreams yet (oh...he will).
Suffering isn't the inability to buy the shoes I want (I have plenty).
Suffering isn't turning 30 (you're alive).

How many times have I allowed foolish discomforts to take away appreciation of my blessings?

I've often shaken the proverbial fist at God, wondering why I've faced some of the situations I have.  I  wonder why I had to grow up without my mother.  I'd look at friends who'd gotten married around the same time as me, and I'd wonder why I was the the unlucky one.  Before I had my two living children, I lost two. I wondered why are other people had healthy babies and I was losing mine.  Why do some people seem to have the good life and some people have it so hard?  Why do some people experience so much suffering, and some experience none?

Despite some trials in my life, the past couple of weeks have reminded me about how blessed I am.  I've been reading One Thousand Gifts, challenging me to count the gifts in my life.  I was also recently reminded of how fleeting life is. Two people from high school passed away recently, one leaving three small children.  Then one of my closest friend's friend went to be with the Lord this week.  I'd only met her once but she had kids around the same ages as mine, and I remember us comparing parenting survival stories.  She was a beautiful woman who passed way too young, leaving two small children and a husband behind.

It was another opportunity to ask God, WHY?  Why do this woman's young children have to grow up without their mother?  It brought up feelings that linger from experiencing my own mother's death as a young girl, never really having an opportunity to grieve the loss.  In your head you know God is good.  In your heart, though, you can't make sense of tragedies like that.

Do you have a hard time making sense of your life?  Why that husband left?  Why you lost that job?  Why you're still single?  Why you're sick?  Why you lost a loved one?

I'm beginning to learn that, in situations like that, we will sometimes never see the sense in it on this side of eternity.  God's ways are higher than ours. He works ALL things together for our good.  Sometimes we just have to let go and trust Him.   Believe me, I have NOT mastered this.  Yet, when I look back on the past few years, purposefully looking for the good things, I notice that so many blessings have flowed from my pain.  I have strength and self-confidence and trust like I've never known.  I am closer to God than I ever was.  I know He is protecting and providing for my children and I.

And then there are seemingly little things, but they are huge. Warm homes.  A cup of coffee in our hands.  A tiny voice begging to play.  A baby's squeals of joy.  Tea parties using plastic utensils covered with God knows what.  Health.  A job.  A good song.  A sunny day.

Sometimes it's hard to see blessings with our bare eyes. Search for them.  Choose to see them. They are worth finding.

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This song has such great lyrics...will you choose to see His "mercies in disguise"?