A friend of mine recently related that incident to my own life ... and boy, was she right. I was so overwhelmed with the return of my mom's cancer -- just one more tragedy that I simply could not handle. It was just too much. I screamed, I cried, I yelled "No! No! No!"
I was Grace in that shopping cart, my friend said. God was pushing the cart, and I didn't like it. I was strapped in and I didn't like it. I strained at the seat belt, I cried, I screamed. But God kept pushing that cart. I didn't want to be in that store, or I didn't want God to push that cart down a particular aisle. I threw a fit.
But God gave me snacks; He gave me graces and blessings. He gave me a bag of cheez-its, blessings to sustain me. He gave me a home to live in; He gave me the opportunity to live by my family; He gave my kids their grandparents and cousins; He gave a Don a job that pays enough to meet our needs and gives him a sense of satisfaction. But still I've been asking why, mourning my losses, fighting the pusher of my shopping cart.
Then He gave me a pack of fruit snacks to hold me over -- a church that is so incredibly welcoming and healing for us; a few new friendships; children who are happy and settled and worry-free. I gobbled up these snacks, quiet for a while, but threw down the package and started screaming once again.
God's pushing the cart. If I would just stop fighting it, if I would just stop straining at the seat belt, if I would just sit back and settle in for the ride, munching on my grace-snacks as I go, then I would be a much happier person. If I managed to get free of my seat belt and out of the cart, would I really be able to take away my mom's cancer? Would I be able to see any more clearly why we are where we are on this journey? Pass the snacks, Lord -- I need an extra helping.
A few smile-filled grace-snacks yesterday:
My daughter has a beautiful, giving spirit. After our walk last night, we sat in the yard with our dishes of strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Grace noticed that Jack was left out, having no dessert of his own. Her peel of giggles, as she shared the creamy goodness with an incredulous (and fast-acting) dog, was as sweet as the treat itself.
Looks like Don will be helping out our church's worship team, since they are down a guitarist. He hasn't picked up his guitar in ages (let alone composed), and it was good to see him play again. He made up a fun little song for Aidan, who was pretending to be a firefighter. Grace just adored this new-found cool trick of her father. She danced, she sang, she tried to play along. Now she's picking up the phone, ready to call all her friends to tell them what an awesome Daddy she has.
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