I wrote this entry earlier this Spring, before I decided to make writing a formal intention.....between the time I wrote this entry and now, I came across the song "Love will have the final word" by Jason Gray. And I got really excited, like, somehow, my "Silver Linings Jesus" was such a phenomenal idea that he wrote a song about it. Obviously, I recognize the irrational grandeur of this. I also know that mentally reviewing every worst case scenario for every situation doesn't actually keep it from happening, but if the irrational thought makes me feel better, I keep it around.
Please file this under the "Not Actual Advice" category and not under "She's a Therapist, it must be real advice" category.
Besides it being inspired by my earth-shattering blog post, I really like this song because it gives me a version of God that I feel nurtured by. I don't feel nurtured by a God that causes hardship, then says it was my fault, then rescues me, so I will have a deeper faith. That feels as twisted as me hiding Kiddo 2.0's binky, kindly telling her that if she kept better track of her things she never would have lost it, then stepping in as the hero in the 11th hour, revealing the long lost binky. As I write this, it actually makes me think of lots of cases I see in my office, big and little people tricked by those who were designed to nurture and guide them. I've always experienced God on the healing, not wounding side of things. And this song says so.
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April, 2015
So, this bizarre thing started happening about a month ago. I would have these cravings to write. I'm used to cravings for caffeine and sleep and good music. But not writing. So I ignored it. And then it kept happening. So, here I am. Not because I have all this extra time and energy and my house is spotless for Easter and the laundry is all done. Not because something worth writing about all of a sudden happened, over a year later. Really, because I have very low impulse control and I have a tendency to give into cravings. Like, the entire tray of chocolate dipped pretzels in my freezer because I couldn't make it through the evening without some sort of sweet-salty deliciousness.
So, the latest writing craving was about my Silver Linings Jesus. Yep. Let me fill you in:
This weekend, our family took a mini-vacation. There were some really great moments, like swimming and picnicking and snuggling in the fancy hotel bed. But, there were also some pretty tough moments, like Kiddo 2.0 getting car sick (public service announcement- "I full" is two year old for "I'm going to vomit all over the place), and the hotel smoke detector battery beeping at 4:00am.
And on our drive home, sometime after the SECOND bout of carsick toddler, and preschooler question number 4,532,349,321 regarding our EXACT location in relation to "being there," it occurred to me that this Easter season, "resurrection" is the promise of the silver lining. That there are storms, but Christ's death & resurrection is the promise of a silver lining. That the storm does not have the final word.
In mini-vacation terms:
Kiddo 2.0 got carsick all over the place, I forgot to pack extra clothes, Kiddo 1.0 is a sympathy puker (storm).
Both kiddos were exhausted and ASKED to skip kitty playdate so they could nap (silver lining).
Smoke detector battery starts beeping at 4:00a, immediately above the sleeping toddler & preschooler (storm).
My sweet husband ripped the thing out of the wall before the girls woke up & the hotel gave us 10% off our bill for the disruption (silver lining).
See? Now, God didn't concoct gastrointestinal distress and battery outages so that I would love Jesus. Those things, unfortunately, just happen. But taking time to notice the silver lining left me feeling grateful, not grumpy. And usually, the grateful version of me is more patient and gracious and all those things Christ calls me to be with my babies and husband and co-workers and hotel front desk worker.
So, this Easter, I'm rejoicing that our God is a God of silver linings. That we have a built in holiday to remember that life is hard, but it doesn't stay that way. Now, say a prayer that the same can be said for the smell inside my car, which my husband has affectionately renamed "Vomit Comet."
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