You
turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with
joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever. (Psalm
30:11-12)
When
I was in college, and for years afterwards, I carried books, purses and more on
my right shoulder. Over time, my back started giving me problems, to the point
where I had to roll on my side and pull myself into a sitting position in order
to get out of bed. I endured back pain for years and resigned myself to suffer
for the rest of my life. One day I suddenly had an idea that I'd never considered before: go to a
chiropractor! (I believe God gave me the idea.) I went to one and returned many
times. One day as I was taking a shower, I suddenly realized that my back
didn't hurt, and I couldn't remember when I was actually last in pain. It seems
to me that most of the pain I've suffered has worked that way. I'm in pain...
I'm in agony... I'm dying, and then I'm not. When did that happen?
Some
people, like David, live big, dramatic lives. They move from wailing and
sackcloth to dancing, joy, and singing at the top of their lungs in the course
of a second, a minute, an hour, or a day. God's action on their behalf is
obvious. Someone opens the door and finds food on their doorstep, or a check in
the mail, or a prodigal child. Others may never find food, checks or children.
Their suffering may last years. One day, they find themselves somehow no longer
hampered by their pain.
For
years, I was convinced that I had an nonhappy, rather pathetic childhood. I
don't mean that I was actively unhappy or that my childhood was one trial after
another. I don't remember much of it, really. There are pieces of it that I
know more as facts than as actual memories. I don't know whether this is
normal, or a product of my personality type. The nonhappy, pathetic view was an
assumption on my part because I don't remember lots of "dancing" or
joy. I also don't remember a lot of wailing or sackcloth so it wasn't a fair judgment
on my art. Within the past 5 years, I transferred decades of slides into
digital photographs. The thing that I noticed most about myself was that I
smiled in the pictures. I know that people are told to smile for pictures, but
the smiles don't look like the "It's a picture so I have to smile"
smiles.
In
cleaning out a file drawer, I found my Junior Girl Scout badge sash. I was
surprised at how many badges were stitched on it. There weren't enough to be
considered a major accomplishment, but there were lots more than I would have
thought. Again, the picture that the evidence shows for my life is that it wasn't the negative time that I tend to
believe it was.
During
the last couple years, I have been discovering that joy is not (always) big and
dramatic. Not all our "dancing" has to be frantic jive or Argentine
tango. A slow waltz is still a dance. Not all our joy has to be a public
display of unbridled exuberance. It can be a quiet assurance. I have been
learning that while I don't have a life
filled with "Oh WOW"s, I do have a life that is more and more filled
with "OK, Uh huh. Good." And for that, God deserves to be
thanked all the days of my life.
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