Such a Joy!

A picture, so they say, is worth a thousand words.  But every once in a while a picture needs a thousand words to explain it!

A few days ago I posted a picture on social media, a photo my daughter snapped of me feeding a baby with two other children climbing on my lap and another little guy getting ready to give me a hug.  The caption reads, Such a joy!  And it is 100% true!  In that one moment, there is nothing else I would rather be doing and nowhere else I would rather be!  My days as a foster parent are often full of smiles and kisses and snuggles.  It truly is the #bestjobever!

What the picture does not show, however, and what the caption does not fully describe, are the people in the picture.  The real-life people with real-life struggles, doing the best we can to love one another.  Individuals, sometimes even strangers, whose lives are being intertwined to create this thing we call family.

Making Wishes

The voice on the phone is bright and cheerful, exactly what I need today.  “I have some great news for you,” she declares.

I could use some great news right about now.  My son has been struggling with complicated health issues for a long, long time, and every time the phone rings, it seems to bring more bad news.  The recent lab work doesn’t look good.  No improvement in the numbers.  The new medication doesn’t seem to be working.  The medical team is deciding what steps to take. 

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, wishes came true.  Miracles happened.  Prayers were answered in the most amazing ways.  A precious baby boy lay in a hospital room, alone, fighting for his life, and against impossible odds, in spite of the doctors’ decision to “make him as comfortable as possible until the end,” he made it!  He was given a chance to thrive!

But here’s the thing about caring for a child with fragile health:  not all wishes come true.  Not all stories end with “happily ever after.”  Sometimes prayers are answered, not with miracles, but with silence.  The medical complications are not easily resolved, there are no specific “praises” that can be e-mailed to the church prayer chain.  He was born with significant health issues, and seven years later, guess what?  He still has significant health issues.  Seven years later we are still praying.  Still waiting for him to be healed. 

Priceless Gifts

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!  The church’s all-purpose room is filled with tiny white lights, a beautifully-decorated tree complete with a lighted star on top, and an over-sized wreath hanging on the wall.  The chatter in the room almost drowns out the sounds of the Christmas carols playing.  The tables are all set for what promises to be a feast.  At first glance, it appears to be a festive holiday party.  A time for merry-making and laughter.  It could be a scene straight from Currier & Ives.

The ladies of the church have worked tirelessly to make this day special.  December is a crazy-busy time of year, and yet they made room in their crowded calendars to plan this special event.  Preparing the menu, decorating the room, setting up tables, and pressing the linens.  They have created a room that practically glows with all of the love and service that was poured into it.  They have provided, if only for a brief afternoon, a respite from life’s problems.  They created PEACE.

                                       

Look a little closer and it soon becomes apparent that some of the details of this holiday picture don’t seem quite right.  The children, the little ones looking all cute in their finest clothes, the older ones wearing everyday jeans and hoodies, are not laughing or playing.  They are just sitting there with the their hands in their laps, trying not to fidget, their eyes looking straight down at their laps.  Why are they not excited about this, the most magical of seasons?

The Quest for Peace

Before the eyes even open, it’s there.  Lingering, menacing, its approaching darkness threateningly close.  It’s a storm cloud that descends without warning, casting a dark gloominess across the day ahead.  Hope’s radiance may be struggling to shine through, but it is completely hidden in the shadows.

This ominous cloud may be Regret.  It is heavy with the tremendous weight of guilt, taunting its reminders of past decisions.  Roads that seemed innocuous and safe in the beginning, but with every step, every twist and turn, have long since led to a place of unintended consequences.  There is no going back.  That time can never be redeemed, and Regret is ever present, mocking and ridiculing the foolishness of yesterday.

Perhaps the foreboding cloud is Fear.  Facing an unknown future, feeling thoroughly unprepared and ill equipped.  This frightening cloud warns of impending storms, a deluge that threatens to consume, causing horrendous damage and destruction. What if the imagination’s worst nightmare indeed happens?  What about that possible scenario?  How will the heart be able to bear it?  The anxiety of such thoughts can be paralyzing.

Sometimes the cloud is simply Weariness.  The difficult circumstances of yesterday remain here today.  The battles that were fought so valiantly at the beginning have now become overwhelming and futile.  What’s the use of continuing the fight when nothing ever seems to change?  Not the slightest sign of victory is in sight.

The thoughts, the thoughts, the thoughts.  Like frightened rabbits, they bound across the meadow of the mind, first darting one way before turning suddenly and dashing in a completely different direction. They continue to scurry, frantically racing and whirling.  Never resting.  Will peace, that elusive tranquility and contentment so earnestly sought, ever be found?