September, 2006
At about midnight the other night I awoke: eyes wide, heart pounding and mind racing. Somehow, while sleeping, my brain had done a little math and it came up with the fact that my very-regular cycle was overdue. Panic ensued. It can’t be. No, God, not now. Not just as my life is smoothing out. The kids are finally all in school. The smell of freedom is only 12 years away. This would set it back to…18 years! Come on, my body can’t endure this again. I’m finally in a consistent size. I have my routine. I gave away all of our baby paraphernalia a long time ago. Besides, our minivan only seats seven.
Normally when one takes permanent precautions, one doesn’t need to worry about such things. But our own pastor is a walking example of why one always has nagging doubts. Ten years after undergoing the big-V, one of his little guys managed to slip through… to his wife’s delight and his utter shock. Unfortunately such examples of God’s sovereignty set those of us in his congregation that are in the post-child-bearing-but-still-fertile age group on edge.
It wasn’t even three days prior that I was talking with a friend, each of us bemoaning recent weight gains. “Isn’t it amazing how new circumstances make you more willing to be content with previous circumstances?” How true. I had been wanting to lose ten pounds. Now I’d be happy just to be where I was, let alone anticipating a 30-pound weight gain.
Contentment. It’s an area where God’s been at work in my life. I like change and enjoy challenging myself. Even when I have things really good, I’m always looking at how to tweak it to make it better. So when am I most content? Well, lying poolside with a piña colada in hand as Hawaiian breezes blow through my hair ranks pretty high on the contentment scale. And having my children all immediately obey me completely without question, hesitation, or arguing ranks up there too. Ah, but back to reality since that is where I spend most of my time.
Physically I am most content when my pants fit or when I’m thinner than the gal standing next to me. Intellectually, I am most content when I can bestow upon others the wealth of my wisdom – or when the letters behind my name outrank the letters behind the name of the one standing beside me. In the daily stuff of life, I am most content when I have the earlier-stated piña colada or when I quit comparing
But sometimes I find myself doing mental gymnastics, stuck in comparison mode – whether it is comparing this year’s weight to that of last year, desert air to coastal breezes, or my friend’s PhD to my lack thereof. I have found there is only one way off that treadmill for me: I need to concentrate on the goodness of God. Not the nicey-nicey “What a lovely day – isn’t God good” kind of goodness, but the knowledge that “If God is truly good, He will do whatever is best for me whether I like it or not” kind of good. This kind of knowledge is simultaneously gut-wrenching and soul-relieving. Which takes me back to that mental wrangling session I was having in bed.
OK, God, if You are truly good, and I am in the state that I fear most, then I know that this is for my best. You will walk with me. I choose to see this as a blessing. You will use this to build my character, though frankly I think You could have chosen something smaller than this present sledgehammer. Really, God, I would have surrendered. (I hope.) Regardless, I choose to surrender to what You have for me now. You are good. With that, I fell asleep until morning.
Now I realize for many women who long for children the monthly reminder that one is not pregnant is painful. And for many teenagers, that same monthly cycle is just a pain. But when you reach a certain age or for those whose quiver is full (or for those of us for whom both are true), such a sight is a major source of contentment.
Of course, the trick is to have faith without sight – to reach contentment before the circumstances would dictate such. So was the midnight wrestling match for naught? Thankfully, this one I get to file under “practice test”.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy
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