My five-year-old daughter had been at the neighbor’s house for a while. Should I go get her? I wondered. Our neighbors at that time were a precious Korean family, and I didn’t fear any harm to my daughter, but I struggled to know when she had overstayed her welcome.
I feel unarmed and unprepared to lay bare before Him. The Lord and my husband. Both of them are a bit terrifying. So instead I set out my items of accomplishment. My quick wit or loving eyes. Whatever decoy I can muster up. He doesn’t fall for it. Not Jesus at least. Not ever. He sees through the charades and applause. The poopy diapers and piles of dishes I do each day. If I’ve excelled at work or made it through the mundane.
One of the most powerful statements I’ve ever heard is, “I know.” When my life was plagued by years of chronic illness brought on by Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue, I often felt that no one in the world understood me. Questions swirled in my mind. Why me? Why this? And when will it end?
Once when my boys were teenagers, they bribed me with doing a month’s worth of laundry if I would just ride this one roller coaster with them. It was perhaps the biggest one I had ever seen. I hate roller coasters. Despise them. I agreed to ride. I truthfully feared for my life and when I got off the rollercoaster, I was crying. I was the only one who escaped to tell you this story. In truth, we all survived, but I’ve never been more afraid!
Since I was a girl, I’ve dreamed of changing the world like it was my destiny. On Christmas and birthdays, I would close my eyes tight, squeeze my hands together, and wish for big things, hoping they would lead to greater things. As I grew, my dreams turned to disappointments. It was as if the world had stood outside the window of my heart, shouting its prosperity anthem of greater things yet to come. I felt an ultimatum to “go bigger or go home.” A trip across the ocean would prove me wrong.