I hovered in the doorway, but none of the kids could see.
One of the perks of working at my kids’ school is that I get to occasionally spy on them in the wild. They are different here and yet still very much themselves. Sometimes louder, or even softer than they are in their natural element at home.
Today I caught the first graders during their morning singing. They were practicing for the spring program next week and I came down the hall just as they launched into another chorus of It is Well with my Soul.
Most were off-key. Some sang with unaware abandon, others more self-conscious barely moving their lips. I found myself tearing up as I heard their young voices raised in praise to a God they do not yet fully understand. They have been taught concepts but have yet to experience realities.
They speak time-honored words filled with a truth they cannot yet comprehend.
“My sin, oh the bliss of the glorious thought.
My sin, not in part, but the whole.
is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o’ my soul.”
I’m not sure I even comprehend it myself.
The last month has been filled with big feelings, the kinds I usually see from my kids. I’ve been knocked down and swept under. Every time I think the seas have calmed, I get dragged down again until I’ve become so weary I wonder if it’s even worth trying to find daylight again.
Words and wisdom seem to have abandoned me and find myself adrift, watching as land seems to grow further away. My world is changing, and moving on, and I just can’t seem to keep up. I’m treading water while everyone else seems to be sailing past.
At times, it seems like even God is silent.
Yes, what I’m experiencing is very real. Denying it, suppressing it, or shaming myself for what I’m going through is not helpful or healthy.
But also, as Paul said to Timothy, I know in whom I have believed. When the people and institutions around me fail, abandon or disappoint me, it hurts. But it is also a chance to remember that they were never meant to be my ultimate reliance. I can mourn the loss of people and relationships I hold dear and still believe that God is at work and has plans for my life. Even when the path is unclear
The paradox of faith is that it is often both. Grief yet joy. Pain but hope. Beauty from ashes.
I may be struggling to find the upside at the moment, but I have to keep believing that it’s there; that eventually the fog will lift and I will be able to see the other side.
“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.”
I enjoyed your post. Listening to children singing is lovely, isn’t it? It is comforting to remember that, even though the world is going crazy around us, even if we find it hard to get through the day, even though we face overwhelming challenges, it is well with our souls because of Jesus, who loves us and is always with us. I hope things get better for you soon. God bless you.
Bethany, I’m sorry you’re struggling. I’ve found myself wandering through the fog for many months and despairing of ever getting out. One of my friends commented last year ‘how beautiful even the fog can be’, which inspired me to write this poem. http://glimpsingglory.blogspot.com/2022/01/how-beautiful-even-fog-can-be.html I hope it blesses you. Isa 41:10 has been a comfort to me many times. Your FMF neighbour at #3 this week.
Praying for you, Bethany. Your words have always inspired me, and have brightened my heart.
The seas are getting really high,
and I have lost my voice.
I truly don’t want to die,
but may not have a choice.
Sometimes it seems like a movie,
the kind that never ends,
but, you know, all here is groovy
for I’m among my friends,
and it’s my job to make them smile,
and not give in to pity,
even though in a short while
I’ll travel to God’s city
and find that past the gate, not far
is the door to Jesus’ bar.