It goes something like this:
Me, while baby is screaming at 11pm/1am/4:27am: God…you created people to need sleep. NEED it. It’s not optional.
We’re all exhausted, and I personally am about to go insane. Why can’t you just help us out here?!
Me, furious: Hello? I thought you cared about us?! This doesn’t feel like care.
Me: Look, I know it’s petty, but seriously — with everything else you can do, and are capable of, and assure us that you’ll provide for, can you just not push the baby-sleep-button?! I KNOW you have one!
Me: Why is this funny to you?
God: It’s not, Love. I know this is hard for you.
Me: Then why don’t you fix it?
God: Dearest daughter. What kind of people would your children become if you “fixed” everything for them?
God, with absolute compassion in his eyes:
Beloved, I am not here to fix this for you. I am here to free you in the midst of it.
Me: *rethinks all my juvenile perspectives on life*
God: I will never leave you. I promise.
I wish I was better at this parenting gig, this mom life, this baby stuff.
But I have come to realize, for myself personally, the pain I encounter in parenthood is my specific path to know God and his heart the way I’m meant to.
I wonder if this is not the sum total of all that comes across our lives in the form of suffering — finding freedom in the midst of what we feel bound by.
For some of us, this looks like sleepless nights with children.
For others, sleepless nights without them.
For still others, sleepless nights because of emotional wounds, or physical trauma, or betrayal, or grief.
But when I can find this gift — the presence of God in the midst of adversity or discomfort — I discover one of the small wins that make up the kind of victory that matters most.
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