Joy in the trials.

Sometimes, I like to throw myself a pity party. Mind you I try to keep these parties to a minimum, and I tend to only invite a few people, but occasionally I find myself sitting on the floor of somewhere crying over my really not-so-rotten life to some poor soul that is stuck listening to me because they were foolish enough to offer. This person usually ends up being my dad, and because we no longer live within the same house, it’s usually over the phone so he has really no way of escaping. Poor guy. To defend myself, I’m being dramatic. It is very rare that I allow myself to do this. But sometimes, especially as a female, you need to sob and ramble on about every terrible thing that has happened to you over the past five years. Or longer if it’s a real good come apart. So the other day one of these scarce break downs happened upon me and I found myself on the phone with my daddy telling him all about how much I was hurting and how awful it was and after consoling me on the situation for a while my dad finally said, “Well, just another learning experience out of the way.” I of course responded with, “But dad, I’m TIRED of learning experiences..” because I wasn’t quite done feeling sorry for myself, but distance from the conversation, and some healing time, has allowed me to look at that statement and find it to be comforting and even slightly, joyful. How selfish of me not to yearn for “learning experiences”!! Because even during the terrible, awful, no good, very bad ones, you grow. And growth is a beautiful thing. I believe losing Bailey was absolutely essential for my adulthood. That statement in and of itself sounds terrible, but it’s something I am truly convicted in. God used that to prepare me. He taught me things in that horrifying experience that have made my life today, functional. For example, I used to absolutely stink at accepting any form of help. And asking for it? Simply out of the question. When I was dealing with things I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to crawl into my little corner of the universe, take an hour or two to deal with it, and then come out, and move on. And I wanted the whole world to move on with me and not pester me about it. If I said I was fine, I was fine. And for anyone to come in and pet on me or attempt to comfort me or offer me anything of any kind, was offensive to me. I don’t need your help, I didn’t ask for your help, I am not your project, good bye. But when you have a congregation of roughly 750 members all doing their best to give you what you need in EVERY possible form, you learn (QUICKLY) how to graciously accept their advances. I also used to be terrible about acting like things didn’t happen. Especially in any sort of romantic situation. If there was a break up I pretended that person had died. Completely disintegrated into the earth, gone to all those that knew him. And I never dealt with any of my emotions. I just convinced myself and others that I was okay, simply by acting like I was. And then God showed me I couldn’t handle everything in life that way. Then I used to have a really bad habit of feeling as if I always had to look like I had everything put together. That is one I struggle with to this day. I have this ridiculous need to have my perpetual game face on. I must look strong and never weak, because the weak get taken advantage of and the strong are respected. But I have learned there is something beautiful about a humble heart and a broken spirit. And recently, I have adopted a method of self-preservation that has opened my eyes to a completely new world. I don’t always have to do what makes me look confident or like I have it all figured out. I don’t have to win the “who is most over this situation game.”  I am at peace with stepping away from that fight and doing what’s best for me, even if that makes some question my inner strength. Sometimes you have to find your own peace, and be okay if it’s not how everyone else seeks it.  I’ve always laughed at the verse in Romans that says we should rejoice in our sufferings, because it produces endurance. It’s one of those verses that I look up and God and think, “Come on, you’re a smart guy, you can’t actually think we were going to be able to do this, right?” And I can’t say that I have done any rejoicing lately over the fact that Bailey isn’t here. But I will say I have come to a place where I can find joy in her memory, and peace in her death. Contentment in missing her, and confidence that this is exactly how it was supposed to be. I don’t enjoy life’s “learning experiences”. I think it is safe to say that nobody does. But God, my Almighty Father, Creator, and the Great I Am holds me in His righteous hand. And through all the things He has pulled me through, I am confident that He will not fail me today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, or any day to come. And that faith will always bring me the comfort and peace that I need.