I continue to blog in an attempt to “hammer out loud” pain, loss and how that all relates to being restored in Christ. And maybe you will gain a view into the challenges of the many (oh so many!) families with special needs children.
However I am often hesitant to post in this “day in the life” series. It’s a lot more popular to talk about progression, healing, and happy endings. This series is rarely about that although someday I hope it will be :). There is no use in pretending self-sufficiency or security. Time has left me little desire to appear a certain way for people or to say what people want to hear.
There have been such sweet times within our family and with God this past year. And there have been other times too, times more akin to “I Been in Sorrow’s Kitchen and Licked Out All the Pots“ (title of a book I’d like to read) and there simply is nothing more to say and no more tears to cry.
It’s been that way lately. Numbness. Prayers have dried up because I no longer can find any words. I don’t know what to pray for, it seems no prayers have been heard.
I stood in the baby aisle at Meijer today, picking out baby wipes. I felt the familiar feeling of sorrow as I looked around at all the normal baby toys. Toys Calvin can’t see. Toys his hands can’t reach out to get. I felt like hopping in my cart and pulling my coat over my head (wouldn’t that be quite a sight!).
But a little spark lit up in my soul and argued with my sorrow, Christ is a redeemer! He is one who restores. He is with you, He will not leave you. Then where is He? Where is relief and respite? Why couldn’t the results from Calvin’s surgery stayed? Why does it have to so hard? Why so much suffering?
And there were no answers. But the little wordless flame of hope in Him flickers on quietly.
Turn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope.
This happened to be on my calendar yesterday. I’m thankful I can turn even when I have no more words to pray.
Here are some thoughts from John Calvin (this is who we named our Calvin after) slightly abridged:
It is then the same, as though one wishing to collect a dispersed and straggling band of soldiers were to say, “To the standard, to the standard;” or, “To the troop, to the troop.” Jerusalem itself had no high wall or strong towers, yet they had God as their stronghold, and this was impregnable.
And Matthew Henry explains:
Zechariah teaches them, that in that state of things there was sufficient defense in God alone. Though then the Jews were not made safe by moats, or by walls, or by mounds, he yet reminds them, that God would be sufficient to defend them, and that he would be to them a wall and a rampart.
Sinners are prisoners, but they are prisoners of hope; their case is sad, but it is not desperate. Christ is a strong-hold for them, a strong tower, in whom they may be safe and quiet from the fear of the wrath of God, the curse of the law, and the assaults of their spiritual enemies. To him they must turn by a lively faith; to him they must flee, and trust in his name.