[Trusting – He will not forget]
As I closed the gate behind me, I stopped to look up at the big oak tree to the side of our vehicle; it was late fall at the time, so it’s branches were bare, and full of these sweet little birds. ‘Wow, He even cares for all of these little birds,” was the thought that went through my mind.
Having Hashimoto’s disease, I’ve had to learn to lean on God’s care. I can’t say that I’m a pro at trusting God, though there was a time when I thought that I had this trust thing all figured out, (Yeah, I know…I know. You don’t have to tell me.) There was peace in my heart, and I wanted to share that hope. It bothered me that I had something that so many others didn’t have: that peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7) This still bothers me. It’s the main reason I write, and continue to share what I write.
However, when push comes to shove that’s when you truly find out where you stand and what you’re made of. Well that push did come to shove, and I’m finding out that: hey–I’m not quite the pro at trusting God as I thought that I was. In fact this new season of my life started with a message to trust Him. Then I received message after message repeating the same thing: Wait! Trust! When fear and anxiety started to grip me, God’s still small voice questioned me, “Do you trust me?” Then I was instructed to slow things down, and to spend more time in conversation with Him.
At some point over the years of this Hashimoto’s journey, I’d noticed that my hair had started to thin in the temples. To say it doesn’t bother me wouldn’t be entirely true. It does bother me some. Not enough to freak me out, or cry about it, but it’s another thing I have no control over, and another reminder that my body is not cooperating. (I guess I look at it as an indicator that something is broken and needs to be fixed.) I used to read way too much about Hashimoto’s disease in hopes that I could figure out how to gain some control, but I’m not in control here–God’s the one in control. Much of that reading just overwhelmed me and lead me to believe that this was way too complicated and hopeless. So God beckons me to pray, and over and over He constantly reminds me to trust Him.
My trust in God has most definitely been challenged this season. I was hopeful and excited from the starting line, metaphorically leaping and running. My hope was soaring, and if instructed by others to trust Him I was quick to say of course I trust God, how could I not when He’s showing me that He’s with me. I could see the prize, and I was dreaming big. However, things haven’t been as smooth sailing as I thought they’d be upon God’s first prompting me to ask for what I need. I guess I had assumed everything would be blue skies and smooth sailing. (Yeah, I’m a bit of a dreamer and a hopeful).
However, blue skies turned grey, and smooth sailing turned to rough seas when something went awry with the new medication I was taking. I found myself confused. (What’s this now? Didn’t God tell me to trust Him?) This wasn’t what I was expecting. My body had taken over; anxiety was in control. Then I battled a rollercoaster of emotions as depression reared its ugly head again. Like the waves of the ocean, one day I was up, the next I was down–and those waves kept on rolling. This new medication hadn’t helped like I thought it would; It hadn’t solved my health issues; it had only made things worse. I was forced to go back to my former medication with this realization: it will calm this storm at least, but I’ll be back at–what feels like–square one again.
I’m now forced to reassess things while I look at all of it from every angle. God is still speaking. He’s still assuring me that He’s with me. If it weren’t for that, I’d have no peace. If it weren’t for His constant reminders I’d feel so alone. I’ve had days and moments in which I’ve temporarily felt alone (depression will do that), but I still know in my heart that I’m not. If it weren’t for God’s comfort I’d feel defeated; instead I have hope. I will shake this dust off, and I will remember to rest in His care. I’m so thankful for that care, and for the family He’s given me in Him. Their encouragement is something money could never buy: a gift from God.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. –2 Corinthians 1:3-5
When things have gotten hairy; I’m splitting (or losing) hairs, and life’s events are more than hair raising, the question is put before me once again: “Do you trust me?” He is that peace, so I must always settle on trusting Him.
When I originally wrote this, I knew what verse I’d use to accompany this ‘Hair piece,’ but I didn’t have the complete verse in my mind–just the part about the sparrows because that’s what came to mind that day I looked up at the oak tree. So, when I did a Google search, brought it up, and read the verse, I shed some tears when I read these words: “And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.” To me, that was God–once again–saying, “trust me, not a single detail escapes me.” Come what may I will trust Him, for in trusting Him I always find my peace. (Philippians 4:7).
“What is the price of five Sparrows? A couple of pennies? Yet God does not forget a single one of them. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid, you are more valuable to him than a whole flock of sparrows.”
Both of the songs below really speak to me right now. I originally felt that God wanted to do a physical healing on both Andrew and I, and I have a few miracles I’ve been praying for–for at least a couple of years now. Whatever the Lord chooses to do with our life I don’t want to stop seeking and praying for those miracles. I still believe in miracles. I still believe in God… but more than anything I want to draw closer to Jesus and stay close. Your will Lord, not mine.