Embracing The Season

It seems a common theme in life, when things get hard, to call it a “season” (though it is) and to wish it away, living for the next season before it ever comes upon us. The other day I found myself wrestling with this. While performing a common task (cooking dinner), my mind spun over this pregnancy which has felt harder than all the others and life with 3 little ones, support raising in full-time-ministry, homeschooling, living as a family of 6 with 1 car – seems most everything we do as a family goes against the grain of culture. And although I’ve never known such a sure peace before about God’s calling for us, I often find myself trying to just get to the next season, rather than living the one I’m in to the fullest and giving it my all no matter how hard it may be or feel.

When does a woman become an adult? Perhaps it’s when she stops comparing her life to other women’s. When she stops waiting for “Mr. Right.” When she stops wishing she’d married someone else or that her children were at an easier stage. We grow up when we see our life and our role from God’s perspective; when we thank God for the role He assigned us and begin to see our cup as a gift instead of a cross; when each morning we ask, “God, how can I glorify You today in my given role?” (Linda Dillow, “Calm My Anxious Heart”)

I’m grown up now, and all the things I dreamt about as a little girl, I’m living. And really, when I stop to think about it ( after a little help gaining Gospel perspective from my man), and when I position my heart toward gratitude, I’m reminded that my cup is a gift instead of a cross.

One step at a time, over the years, as I sought to plumb the mystery of suffering (which cannot be plumbed), I began to see that there is a sense in which everything is a gift. I do not say I was not lonely. I was – terribly. I do not say that I did not grieve. I did – most sorely. But peace of the sort the world cannot give comes, not by the removal of suffering, but in another way – through acceptance. –Elisabeth Elliot