Will It Ever Get Better?

SPOILER ALERT: Yes, yes it will get better.

If I had asked myself that questions a week ago, I would have answered differently. I would have said, "No way, Jose!" That’s just the truth. And I’m all about the truth.

I’ve been in the middle of a season of life I haaaaaate. The details are unimportant because I want to be able to make the point that no matter what valley you are walking through, the feelings and the questions and the confusion and the hurt is all the same.

If you are mourning the loss of a loved one, an uncertain time in your career, the void of something in your life you desire, the struggle with an addiction, the weight of a decision, a lack of confidence in yourself, a broken relationship, deception, etc. (I could literally go on and on ...) the pain is all the same. And that pain is deep. Like Grand Canyon deep.

In my own life the pain, although emotional, feels physical. It’s deep and vast and constant.

When this season was sprung upon me it put me in the saddest place I’ve ever been. I’ve talked a lot here about being in a dark place before. This wasn’t like that. This wasn’t dark, it was just sad. It was a sadness I’ve never known. I wasn’t even sure where to put my feelings (I'm still not). I had so many questions for the Lord. Questions I asked him. Questions I got no answers for. Questions I still have no answers for.

But, through the sadness I was honest with myself and with the Lord. I was open with the people I trust the most. They watched me cry. They held me close. It was an honest place I’d never been. Sure, I can write words here all day and talk about tears and sadness, but when you are willing to looking people in the face with real tears in your eyes and dark circles because of the sleepless nights and say, “I’ve never been this sad. I don’t understand what the Lord is doing.” And have them say, “I know. I’m so sorry. I love you.” it changes things. This is still ongoing. It's still changing things.

I’m a strong believer. I always have been. I’ve always had an honest relationship with the Lord, but this time it got really honest. My prayers are not meek and mild. They are fierce and sometimes shocking. They were/are more sobs than prayers, but tears are prayers too. I was angry at Him for taking something from me. I was angry at the feeling that my life is going backwards and not forwards. I was angry and it was real. And it was honest. And it was an actual relationship. My understanding of my relationship with the Lord was and is being re-birthed. In relationships of any kind, honesty is essential.

Truth: I hate what He is doing, but I trust Him.

I think that’s when the healing begins.

I was drawn today to think about the story of the Prodigal Son. You know the story. Guy wants his inheritance (Ugh! Men! Am I right?). Takes his inheritance and loses it. Gets a job feeding pigs. Realizes his mistake and goes home to a father who welcomes him back with open arms and a big party.

I wish I knew the father’s side of the story. You know what I mean? I wish I knew how he handled the sleepless nights of worry and how much he cried. I wish I l knew the prayers he prayed. I wish I knew how betrayed he felt after loving his son so well. I wish I knew how often he looked outside waiting for his son. I wish I knew how many times he had planned out what he would do if/when his son returned. I wish I knew if the pain ever eased up, or if it was hurtful the entire time his son was gone. I just wish I knew his story.

Because although we are the son at times, I think most of the time we are the father. We are waiting on something or someone. We are sitting in the silence of the unknown. We are crying so much that we Google “Can you be dehydrated from crying?” (A: Yes, however highly unlikely.) We are the father waiting. Sometimes the “son” comes home and sometimes he doesn’t. But either way the tears and the sadness and the pain and the sorrow are all part of the healing.

So whatever it is you are waiting on today I hope you know that someone is in the waiting with you. Someone is praying for you (a WONDERFUL way to take the focus off of yourself, might I add) and someone understands.

If you are 10 years old or 100 years old I want you to know that it does get better. The days do look brighter. Your hope will arise out of the ashes. I don't know when that will happen or what it will look like (I wish I did), but It DOES get better.

I am not totally healed, and might never be. This was a deep one. There is a hurt that is still there, but it is spurring (notice this isn’t past tense) me to be better. To be more honest and to be more thoughtful towards others.

I am the father waiting on his son to come home. I am looking out at the horizon and planning out the welcome celebration even as I weep ugly tears. I am trusting the Lord even though I cannot see anything approaching just yet. I am trusting Him even though I hate the situation. I know that His sovereign plan will emerge on the horizon at exactly the right time. And when it does, I will run to it and we will feast on the goodness of His faithfulness.

So let's not lose hope, ok? Let's keep looking out towards the unknown and planning a feast (there will be hot fudge sundaes at mine, if you are interested in attending) and praying with our whole hearts knowing the Lord will deliver to us exactly what he knows we need.

xo