overloaded bouncy castles & foul-mouthed strangers

 I think the Lord lets us go through little seasons of feeling lonely, feeling frustrated, feeling _____whatever-we're-feeling____ for the space it gives Him to work. We want Him to always be working, and how much more fun when He works in the joys and in the blessings! But I think we have enough Biblical evidence of the Lord working most in valleys and desserts and monotonous days to expect the same in our own lives. 

I am such a Susie Sunshine (as Lily dramatically groans, "sugar-coating everything mom's spiritual gift") that I pretty much battle going into valleys for all I'm worth. Lilibeth once fondly told us that Dadou would be the last man clinging to the tippity top of the tallest palm tree of Haiti even as the whole country was sinking and giving up hope, and these past weeks I have felt my inner Dadou...fighting the climb for sunshine and a breeze for all I'm worth when everything's pulling me down, cloudy and stifling.

I finally gave up today and just told the Lord He'd have to meet me in my funk, and took all the kids (Matt is in Oregon) to a fall festival to cheer on their friend who was working the petting zoo. Alone between the six kids, I finally picked a spot in the middle of the yard and sunshine plopped down in the grass. I watched Ben running between the bouncy houses, Nora glued to her unicorn, Sofie and SarahBeth running about like birds attached at the hip, Lily rotating between visiting with MaeMae and the animals and "window shopping" all the booths. 

I didn't expect or even look for alone time or quiet time today, but as I sat there in the middle of the crowds with my eyes on overjoyed kiddos, no chores to do, no needs to attend to, I was totally alone, totally still, and totally seen by the only One who matters.

I realized that the Lord given me the privilege of a heart that breaks for Haiti, given me the gift of fierce love that breaks for my brother, given me the priceless and cherished friends that hurt me deeply just by hurting deeply themselves. He's given me the teenager who rotates between snuggling me and rolling her eyes at me (often within moments), He's given me the work that both stretches and blesses and threatens to kill me.

He has GIFTED me the very things that feel like they rise up to drown me. He hasn't ASKED me to stay in the top of the tallest, sunshiny happy tree. He's asked me to get down and get dirty, to be where there is hurt and pain and broken, to be sent light to the darkness, just like the whole mess He sent down His Son. 

To be heavy with the heavy and to hurt with the hurting and to rejoice with those rejoicing.

Loving like Jesus isn't all that easy.

I'm just thankful as I try that He's working...working in the hard situations, and also working in and on US as He carries us through them. 

I'm thankful He was there in Hagar's thirsty desert and that He's there with hungry me, in the middle of overloaded bouncy castles and foul-mouthed strangers, in the middle of weekends with lots of kids and without dad, in the middle of places we never thought we'd be while we wait for the place we'll finally call HOME, home with no more tears.