It seems like life just gets harder with each year that passes.  I honestly feel like I’ve aged ten years this past year.  I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, and unfortunately this isn’t unusual.  I injured an elbow and a shoulder last year, on the same arm, and both still cause me pain almost daily.  My gray hairs and forehead wrinkles have multiplied exponentially.  My metabolism seems to have slowed to a frustrating rate and exercising gives me headaches.  Even on the rare occasion I don’t have a child waking me up multiple times a night, I don’t sleep well because my back and arms ache.  My brain is in a fog, my body hurts and my heart hurts.  It makes me not so very excited to celebrate another year of life.

But I know there are good things.

I have a husband who loves me and serves me and protects me and prays for me and tells me I’m beautiful.

I have children who are smart and healthy and affectionate…who love me even when I don’t deserve it.

I have a God who sees all that I am and loves me with a zeal that I can’t wrap my head around.

And as much as I wish other things were different, the truth is that I have the best of the most important things and I am thankful for that.

Our plan today was to go to Watertown to do some special things for Bethany on her birthday.  This morning though – almost immediately upon waking up – Isabelle started throwing up.  In less than two hours she had thrown up four or five times.  She hadn’t eaten much for lunch or dinner yesterday, so we had thought maybe she needed some food in her stomach.  But she couldn’t keep down crackers, juice or toast…and she showed very little interest in any of it anyway.  Eventually, Tim and I were pretty resigned to having to change our plans for the day.  And when Bethany asked if we were still going to Watertown, we said no.

After a brief pause, Caedmon said simply She’s not going to throw up anymore.

I replied with something like She’s not, huh?

And his response was No.  We’re going to go to Watertown, she’s going to nap in the car and she’s not going to throw up anymore.  

Bethany asked How do you know that?

Because God is going to heal her.

He said it without an ounce of doubt, without a bit of hesitation.

And within a few minutes, she had eaten a plate of scrambled eggs in seconds flat and was asking for more.

We went to Watertown.  She napped on the ride there and the ride home.  There wasn’t a single moment when she seemed at all sick, which – given her susceptibility to car sickness – would have been almost unheard of anyway, and certainly seemed out of the question when she’d spent the morning throwing up.

It was convicting and challenging and faith-building all at once.  And joy to our hearts to see Caedmon’s confidence in God’s goodness and sovereignty.  I’m so thankful that God honored his faith today.  I’m so thankful that Caedmon got to witness God’s response to his faith.  I’m so thankful for the reminder that faith requires going beyond what we can see and trusting that when we “step out of the boat” he will show His limitless power.

We serve a good God.

Today, we celebrate Bethany.  She has kept us on our toes for all of her ten years.  Just when I think we’ve figured her out, she surprises us.  She can struggle with writing a complete sentence, but can explain to me exactly what a direct object is.  She can be totally oblivious to something right under her nose, but can observe the small details of any number of mechanical devices and figure out how they’re working together.  She is our only child who unfailingly remembers to strip the sheets off her bed on Tuesdays to be washed, but almost daily forgets that she’s supposed to collect eggs in the morning.  We are regularly taken by surprise at her deep understanding of some things, but are just as often stunned at how some things completely escape her notice.

There seems to be very little middle ground with Bethany.  When she gets something, she gets it.  When she wants to do something right, she does it exceptionally.  Conversely, when she stumbles, she does so in big ways.  When she gives up on something, it takes an inordinate amount of persuasion to convince her to try again.  When she’s caught in a sin, she is either immediately repentant, or stands by what she’s done even when she’s faced with grave consequences.  She makes up her mind and that’s it.  Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not, but for all that can be problematic about it, her determination to stand by her convictions no matter the cost is admirable.

She is proving to be patient and loving and gentle with her younger sisters.  She is affectionate and optimistic and joyful almost all of the time.  She loves sewing and drawing and pretty much any craft project she can find.  She’s not afraid to try new things.  She’s quick to offer encouragement and praise.  She genuinely loves Jesus.

She is a gift and a challenge and more loved than I can put into words, this oldest girl of mine.  I am so thankful for her.

I’m needing a perspective adjustment this morning.  Life is pressing in, a tangible weight that slows my pace and draws my gaze from the only place it needs to be set.

We got home last night from a few days spent visiting family.  It was a good few days.  I love my parents and my brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews.  But the stirring up of that deep affection always brings with it twinges of heartache.  Nothing’s perfect, and it can be hardest to see the needs in the lives of those you love while feeling helpless to make anything better.

And today, everything else is crowding in.  The little things…piles of laundry, a sparse refrigerator, an interrupted routine, aches and pains that make me feel way older than I am.  And the big things…heart wounds, fears of failure, struggles with a sin nature.  It all makes me want to give up, to blame God, to be convinced that there’s nothing good in any of it.

So I ask God for help, and He reminds me – Jesus is the answer.

Because of Jesus, I can come boldly before the throne of grace when I am in need of mercy and grace.

Because of Jesus, I have confidence that there is hope for those I love, even when I feel helpless.

Because of Jesus, I can find freedom from fear, knowing that the God who defeated the grave is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine.

Because of Jesus, I can trust that God sees all of me – every sin, every failure, every weakness…as well as every bit of me that is unlovely and awkward and not even close to being right…and loves me unconditionally.

Because of Jesus, I can face today knowing that God is with me.  And God is for me.

Jesus is the answer – for today and always.

I was on the treadmill when the song Big House by Audio Adrenaline started playing.  It’s a fun, upbeat song.  A good running song.  But this time, one line of the song knocked the wind out of me.

All I know is you need love, and I’ve got a family.

And I started sobbing, right there in the middle of running.

I’ve got a family???

I thought we were loved.  I thought we had a family.  I think maybe the one thing worse than not having something you long for is to think you have it, only to find out when you most need it that it isn’t there after all.

I understand not turning a blind eye to someone caught in unrepentant sin.  But this isn’t a sin issue.  It’s just not.  We have kept the Bible as our only standard and even after earnestly searching for how we might have been wrong, our consciences are clear.  Nearly everyone in our “family” has chosen to not care enough to even find out what the truth of the situation is, though. People who are supposed to believe the best of us have been more than willing to believe the worst of us, have chosen to avoid us, have witnessed in silence the harsh consequences that have gone beyond even what the Bible deems necessary when someone is walking in unrepentant sin.  I guess it would be a lot to expect anyone to respond differently.

But this is not at all like love.

This is not at all like family.

I guess now I know.

Empty backpacks hang in the closet.

There are unused lunch boxes in the cupboard.

Friday mornings come with an extra twinge of heartache and, I admit, most of the time I feel like this is injustice of the worst kind.

The answer to how are you? has become simply the same.

Nothing’s changing…or, at least, these particular things – these big things – remain hopeless.  But there are little ways in which things are better.  Areas that have nothing to do with the big things, except perhaps to remind us that God can always find a way to make His grace evident, even when life’s trials threaten to overwhelm.

And I’m thankful for that.

It would be easy to be hopeless otherwise.