And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still! And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, "Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?"
--Mark 4:38-40
The seas got mighty rough today. I'm in the boat with Jesus and I'm waiting for the moment when he stretches out his arms, lifts his head to the heavens and in a single breath of ease commands the storm to cease. It hasn't happened. The calm may not be coming.
Like the disciples sailing on the Sea of Galilee that day, I fear drowning in this storm that has come my way. Like the disciples who lacked the expertise to handle such severe conditions, I lack the knowledge to calm a little heart raging wildly against everything and everyone. I have no plan. I have no power. I have no control. But Jesus is in the boat.
Today was by far the hardest day yet with Will. The grieving has stopped and anger has set in. He is so desperate to control something, anything in his life that even the smallest decision made for him stirs up a windstorm that leaves me crying out to the sleeping God in the boat: "Why have you called me to this when it's so clear I can't handle it?" Will raged continually throughout the day and by suppertime I was physically holding his writhing body against mine, constricting his arms and legs until he submitted. Submission came one hour and fifteen minutes later when we were both sweat drenched and I couldn't formulate the words "I love you" without them sounding like a lie. I came undone.
And laying him down in his crib for the night's sleep, he rolls over and faces me through the slats. I tell him I love him and I mean it. He shakes his head no. I say it again. He shakes his head no. I say it again. He pushes his hand through the gap and I take it in mine and stroke his palm as his eye lids close. His steady breathing holds no memory of the days events. The storm has calmed for this night at least.
As I was re-reading the story of Jesus calming the storm, I was reminded that though the disciples were fearful and panicked, Jesus was so at peace that he was sleeping. Although my fears rise up from time to time and I doubt my ability to parent this hurting child, God is at peace. He has every power and every remarkable resource available to him which he can call down on my storm. And he's not getting out of the boat.
Furthermore, Jesus didn't even have to calm the storm in order for the disciples to be alright. God's presence was all they needed...and it's all I need too. Yes, I'd like for things to get easier, but if they don't I will not feel like this endeavor was a mistake. I will not doubt God's sovereignty in orchestrating Will's union with our family. I will know that God's presence throughout the storm was what I needed and I will praise him.
Today was by far the hardest day yet with Will. The grieving has stopped and anger has set in. He is so desperate to control something, anything in his life that even the smallest decision made for him stirs up a windstorm that leaves me crying out to the sleeping God in the boat: "Why have you called me to this when it's so clear I can't handle it?" Will raged continually throughout the day and by suppertime I was physically holding his writhing body against mine, constricting his arms and legs until he submitted. Submission came one hour and fifteen minutes later when we were both sweat drenched and I couldn't formulate the words "I love you" without them sounding like a lie. I came undone.
And laying him down in his crib for the night's sleep, he rolls over and faces me through the slats. I tell him I love him and I mean it. He shakes his head no. I say it again. He shakes his head no. I say it again. He pushes his hand through the gap and I take it in mine and stroke his palm as his eye lids close. His steady breathing holds no memory of the days events. The storm has calmed for this night at least.
As I was re-reading the story of Jesus calming the storm, I was reminded that though the disciples were fearful and panicked, Jesus was so at peace that he was sleeping. Although my fears rise up from time to time and I doubt my ability to parent this hurting child, God is at peace. He has every power and every remarkable resource available to him which he can call down on my storm. And he's not getting out of the boat.
Furthermore, Jesus didn't even have to calm the storm in order for the disciples to be alright. God's presence was all they needed...and it's all I need too. Yes, I'd like for things to get easier, but if they don't I will not feel like this endeavor was a mistake. I will not doubt God's sovereignty in orchestrating Will's union with our family. I will know that God's presence throughout the storm was what I needed and I will praise him.
Whatever your storm is, I'm praying courage for you. I'm resting in the truth that with God's presence throughout the turmoil, we will all be fine. I stand in awe of a God who calls nature to obey and I humbly ask him to turn the little heart of a two year old towards mine. Lower his defenses and let him be still enough to feel peace for the first time in his life. I ask God to help the others in the storm--Molly, Grace, and Ben who are so young in their understanding of who God is and the complicated nature of his ways. Oh, that we can show them more of him throughout this struggle. And I ask for the grace to get up tomorrow and get back in the boat yet again. I can do this because He is the master of the ship.
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