Skip to main content

The Melody of Suffering

Suffering is no stranger to us.

There have been times where I have lulled myself into a false sense of security and I have thought it may have left us. That its grasp weakened and we were able to slip away. 
But it has not. Suffering walks amongst us and stays with us faithfully. Clinging to us as if we are it's life force. As if our very weakening gives it strength. 

So, no, suffering is no stranger to us. 

That being said, I would also say that suffering has been a far greater teacher to us than joy has ever been.

Suffering hurts. It's a part of our lives, and it hurts. Nobody likes suffering. Who enjoys to have our worldly flesh chiseled away as we are shaped into a more Christ-like being?

But, suffering IS shaping us. It has a godly purpose that , long ago, was written by a perfect composer. 

God has written a beautiful melody of joy and suffering that He sings to us in this broken world. Suffering is intertwined with joy, with thankfulness, and with purpose. We must seek the beauty in the suffering and thank the Lord for it. We must thank Him, even when that beauty is hidden from us. 

God is constant, and never changing. We must trust in the truth of who He is and trust that His plan is truly perfect and for our good. 

When suffering's melody seems to be the anthem of our hearts we must trust. 

We must forgive offenders, thank God for the circumstance, ask how we can serve Him, and trust. 

There has never been a more passionate love song than the one the Lord sings with the lyrics of suffering.  




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Tainting of Tattoos

  You know, despite my tattoos...and piercings...and partially shaved head...I never considered that my look was very "alternative". At least not until someone said it was. I just thought that I was expressing myself in ways I might not have before. *I* like how I look...and I guess, if I'm being honest, what other people might think just doesn’t really factor into anything I do. But certainly not in the sense that I expect everyone to love everything about it all. My poor mom dislikes tattoos, my brother makes fun of my hair, and lots of people have said "oh...it's not quite my thing".  I never expected people to like these things about me the way I like them about me. I am not particularly bothered if it’s not your thing. It doesn't offend me. I'm not asking you to get a tattoo...or a piercing...or to shave your head. *I* did it because *I* wanted to...you just didn't factor into it. That being said...I've never been judged so...interesting...

Our Story Hurts

  On December 27, 2021 - almost 7 months after my husband died - I drove 4 hours to pick up a 12 year old girl who needed a home.  4 years later I rang in the anniversary of bringing her home by sleeping on the floor of her hospital room.  Hours before, after a great day together, she dissolved into a tantrum that she couldn’t control and I couldn’t bring her out of. She was hurting herself and threatening me and I had to call the police so she would stop.  We ended up in the ER for a behavioral health evaluation (not our first rodeo) and it was decided that the best thing for her was to spend a week at an in-patient facility. 4 years ago I drove her home…and today I had to let someone else drive her away.  This is the part that everyone warned me about 4 years ago. The hardness of this part…the possible hopelessness of this part. The brokenness of this part. My daughter’s situation isn’t abnormal in the adoption community, or even in the parenting of biological...

She Doesn’t Call Me Mom…

  My daughter doesn't call me Mom. There's a brutality in that that doesn't seem to fade. Because it's not just a name. If it was just a name I'd be okay with it...with not being Mom. But it's so much more, and in this season of life, my heart is seemingly constantly being broken in the wake of a daughter who does not want me to be her mother.  I have held in secret deep hurts and brokenness in the life of my teenager's adoption. Partly because it's not only my story, but hers as well. But this year has been so very heavy...and I have so often felt so very alone in that heaviness. Who understands the rejection of RAD? Of ODD? Of ADHD? Of Adoption? Of a child who is so very loving and kind to everyone except their mom? I've read post after post of mothers, of fathers, of siblings, of children who have faced or are facing the exact life we are living, and they a balm to my weary soul. Comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone...that I am not alon...