The absolute best comfort in the world was Grandpa’s lap. Something about his hands being so big and mine being so small; I knew that he was capable. In the safety of his arms, it would be okay. It was comforting the way he loved, with peace and gentle confidence. Maybe it was knowing he had seen far away places and lived through a lot maybe it was me sensing Jesus in him, maybe both; in any case I trusted him completely.
At times he wouldn’t say anything, just carry on with his work. But then he would look up and hold my gaze. He had the answer even when the answer was silence. His eyes held knowledge and experience and deep love.
When everything was a wreck, he would just hug me and take my hand. The world stabilized.
When everything was exciting and I needed to share, I was free to chatter about whatever I wanted. He would listen contentedly. He wasn’t rushed or hurried; just present and welcoming and loving. When I would finally slow and still, I would rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It was a home for my heart. It didn’t matter what felt wrong; sitting with my grandpa and hearing his soothing voice and steady heartbeat would fix it.
My body would relax and peace would enter. It was safe. It was love. It was home.
Thirty years later and I would love to give him a big hug and just hear his heartbeat for another moment; just long enough to remember that even though the world isn’t safe…that place was. Just a place to stand and let worry fall off my shoulders as I melt into the knowing he had.
My grandpa passed away over ten years ago. There are things that remind me of him and make me smile; make me pause and breathe in the sweet reminiscent aroma of safety and a perfect place. There are places that feel like warm sunshine because of the memory that lights them up. The knowledge that those moments aren’t possible anymore is bittersweet but only uncomfortable this side of heaven.
We get stuck in our messes and the mess life throws us sometimes. At least I do. Some days I ignore everything and plow through, and some days I just want to hide under the covers. Every so often I acknowledge the mess and intentionally clean it up or walk with it. I have mature moments. We are all a mix of immature and mature on this journey right?
The last six months or so have been more than challenging. One symptom compounding to many possible syndromes and auto-immune disorders have left me tired and struggling to hope at times.
I have learned more about the body than I ever wanted to know and learned that self-care is never easy to make time for but also isn’t something that can be left undone. We are supposed to steward the things the Lord gave us, including our health!
I have learned to trust others even when they let me down and to respect people for where they are at even when I know they are wrong. (Okay honestly, this one I am still working on.)
I have learned that changing diets is not the worst thing on the planet and that food is fuel. What a blessing that God gave us so many flavors! Do we even realize how blessed we are that we aren’t still eating manna?
Perseverance is not something I wanted to learn this way. It’s not the fun and glamorous adventure I had imagined it to be. It isn’t some short-term (how cute of me) burst of bravery that I could look back and say I did.
“There…I had perseverance and overcame! Look God, I’m capable.”
But I didn’t. If I have had any perseverance it is only by the grace of God. I do a lot of mental complaining, a lot of actual complaining and a lot of questioning. I argue with lies and fears and get caught in the trap of allowing the enemy’s words to sink in. I do a lot of sitting in the mud, knowing I need to get up.
It’s a mess.
It’s a struggle I want to quit.
But I really don’t. Because He is changing me and growing me and teaching me.
The last time I was in the mud, it was depression and I didn’t know how to get up. I didn’t know I could. He didn’t leave me then. He stood patiently with His hand out to help me up.
This time I know His hand is there and I’m just being stubborn. There’s grace for that too.
But I’m tired and I know there is more to go and a longer run ahead, after this there will be another and after that another.
“They that wait upon the Lord…”
He never promised us that it would be easy, in fact He said the opposite.
We will have trouble, it WILL get hard.
but friends… He has OVERCOME the world. We can’t, but He did.
And when everything is a mess and we are covered in mud we can do the simplest of things; climb up on His lap and laugh about the mud that gets everywhere but doesn’t seem to stick to Him at all. And chatter. We can chatter all day long, and when we finally settle. When we finally quiet down, we can rest our heads on His chest and still our breathing until all we hear is His heart.
And there in that place. We will be safe. We will be loved. We will be home.
I love the reminder and the picture of crawling up out of the mud, with a sense of humor, into a Parent’s lap. We so often focus on so many other things and forget we have options! Reminds me of times my daughter’s, in earlier preschool years would do just what you described. Play and learn with freedom to make mistakes, ask for help and take life as it comes with adventure and sense of humor. Something happens as we enter into adulthood and we get upset that we don’t know what we think we should know, or be able to do what we can’t do yet. As a parent when my daughter’s go through moments like this I know they are still loved so deeply no matter what they knew, could do, or did! I know this is true of my parents toward me as well. Such a delight to know we can crawl up into our Father’s lap like we did in the preschool years, not get weighed down by the stuff, and take comfort in knowing he delights in us, and we can freely delight in Him too!