Wednesday, September 18, 2013

All in a Day

Ahhh. I feel a million times better right now. I just washed off a green clay face mask and I feel like I washed all my cares away, too. (okay, not really. but it sounds like a great commercial.)

It's amazing what some food, some quiet rest time, some praise and worship, and a clay mask can do for my outlook.

It's been a long day. Two miscarriages, a new baby, a new pregnancy, ultrasound training, piles of paperwork, piles of emotions. And to top it all off, personally I've been charting again. I know it's for my health, but it's also a glaring reminder that my body doesn't work right...and as I see these precious babies, I can't help but wonder if my body will carry one beneath my heart someday. Someday.

And so after staying late at work, buying some groceries for a camping trip this weekend, and then finally getting home this evening with a full heart and an empty stomach...I cried.

I walked through my house putting away clothes and groceries as sniffles and mini-sobs escaped.

I'm a little hesitant to tell you guys that. I've been posting all these Haiti reflections and quotes on poverty and justice...and here I blubber because of transient hunger and fear of the future.

I'm aware of the first-world status of my problems.

But you know...I still think God cares. Actually, I know He does.

Because I felt His caress as I unpacked those groceries. He wasn't criticizing me for being weak. He was reminding me He wants to be my strength. No matter what our struggle is, He wants to be in the thick of it with us. Whether it's something big like third-world hunger, or something small like a long day at work...or something universal like loneliness, fear, guilt, or heartache...He's there. A loving Father who either gently points our focus in a new direction, or generously provides for our needs and desires, or sometimes just holds us tight and cries with us.

The groceries are put away. The camping food is packed. I even found some time to load up the tent and all that. And despite the challenges, it was a beautiful, graced day at the pregnancy center. It feels great to look back on the crazy day and know that most of the to-do list got done anyway; I don't know why I worry about it.

But the moment I treasure most from tonight is when I felt His presence in the midst of my humanness. When I lifted my hands spontaneously in worship as Spotify played my favorite songs, and the God of the broken reached down and loved me in all my first-world selfishness and weakness. And reminded me that He doesn't want me to complete a to-do list for Him.

He just wants me.

He wants you, too.

Throw away the to-do list with me. He's reaching down. Lift up your hands. It feels a million times better.


  1. Oh, Laura, this is beautiful. For the longest time I struggled with feeling pain when there were others who were suffering so much more. And then I realized just what you wrote. I need to be weak so He can be strong for me, and if my only available sufferings are small ones, then I NEED to feel them.

    I'm like a baby who cries when it wakes up in the dark. Everything is really all right for me, but I don't see. It's dark, and I'm frightened, and that's all I know. Even if the reality is that I'm right besides parents and I'm warm, fed, and loved, I don't know that and I'm scared.

    Or I'm like the child with the scraped knee. Maybe it isn't so bad compared to my friend down the street who broke her leg, but it still HURTS. And God is like my mother. She still cares. He still cares. She treasures the fact that I run to her for help. So does He.

    Thank you for touching my heart today. God bless you! ♥

  2. Ah, I love those analogies, Clare! What a great description! Thank you! And thank you for your kind words. <3