My Right Hand

For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.”     Isaiah 41:13 ESV

As I opened to the “verse of the day” this morning, I was initially very encouraged by it.  The introductory question was about fear and anxiety.  Which is pretty much me in a nutshell so much of the time, including this morning before I opened my Bible app and began to read.

It’s a strange time in my story.  If you know me, you know that it’s ALWAYS a strange time in my story, lol!  But I’m calling this the season of “I don’t know.”  Because I just don’t.  I feel like I don’t know anything.  I’m at odds with my situation, myself, my feelings… everything, it seems…

I don’t know if it’s because of the circumstances at work that radically changed our lives a couple of months ago.  It could just be that the world is in such turmoil at the moment that everything feels uncertain.  Maybe it’s just that I have this predisposition toward overthinking everything, and therefore little things are magnified and big things look insurmountable.  Probably it’s all of this together.

So, when the introduction to the verse of the day said, “Imagine God speaking today’s verse over you,” and I read Isaiah 41:13, I breathed a little sigh of relief.  It was one of those “exactly what I needed in the moment” experiences.  The girl that did the little video story to go with today’s verse was right on target, so much so that I went to look up who she was (she’s a singer, it turns out).  The devotional passage that followed was just what I needed to read.  It was all just… good.  Encouraging.

I kind of closed my eyes and imagined God holding my hand, and that just felt really good and comforting. 

Then I went back and read it again, and it made me a little uncomfortable.  The verse doesn’t just say that God holds my hand.  It said that He holds my RIGHT hand.  When I paused for that mental picture, it stirred up different emotions in me.  So I stopped to consider why. 

I love it when I’m walking with my husband and he holds my hand.  Sometimes we’ll just be sitting, watching a movie, or even driving down the road, and we’re holding hands.  And that makes me feel loved, and safe.  But here’s what I realized – Jeff always holds my LEFT hand.  He’s left-handed; I’m right-handed.  It’s convenient that we still have freedom in our dominant hands while holding each other with the weaker hand. 

I suspect that I am responsible for this.  Truthfully, I am the one who often reaches for his hand.  In my mind, it is a loving and romantic gesture.  As I consider it this morning though, I fear that it may point to a character flaw of mine – the craving for control.  I don’t want control in the traditional sense that I think of people as being “controlling.”  I have no desire to control my husband or the people around me.  I do, however, feel the need to control myself, my life, my feelings, my emotions and circumstances.  I dismiss this under the guise of “personal responsibility,” but in fact, it goes much deeper.

When I pictured God holding my RIGHT hand – for a split-second – I felt trapped.  Crazy, huh?! 

But this is such a startling illustration of my turmoil in this season of “I don’t know.”  I see tiny little me trying to wring my hand away from the great big loving God Who is trying to take care of me.  He’s trying to lead and guide me, and I’m pulling a three-year-old move, collapsing into a little ball as if my feather-weight will somehow free me from His grasp.

I don’t want Him to let go.  But apparently, I’m kind of afraid to go His way. 

I feel like I need my right hand free, because it’s my strong hand.  That’s the one I write with.  It’s the hand that shifts the gears in my car and gets the lids off the pickle jar.  It’s the hand I use to hold my coffee mug and to pour the sweet tea.  It’s the hand I text with! (I’m too old to learn how to text with two hands!)

If God has my right hand, He has control.

That’s what I want.  Isn’t it?

My husband often tells me, “You need to disconnect your brain.”  I don’t really know how to do that.  I’m not really comfortable with that idea.  And yet, that is exactly what is necessary.

I am to give God my right hand, and stop resisting.  He knows what He’s doing.  He knows where we’re going.  It will be good.  It will probably also be hard, but it needn’t be so hard FOR ME.  That’s why He wants my right hand.  He’s going to do the heavy lifting.  I’ll do my token part with my weaker hand, because it’s not about what I can do.  I’m not supposed to be the strong one in this relationship.

And so, one more read-through of the verse of the day, and I’m feeling comforted.  When God says, “Fear not,” I think that means that I’m supposed to not fear.  Complicated, huh?  I just need to stop dragging my feet and walk confidently where He leads.

I may not know exactly where we’re going or how we’re going to get there.  As long as God’s got my right hand, I guess I don’t have to know.  I just have to go.

… Just a thought…

Weary, Worn Out, and Stupid

The words of Agur son of Jakeh. The oracle.  The man declares, I am weary, O God;  I am weary, O God, and worn out.  Surely I am too stupid to be a man.  I have not the understanding of a man.   I have not learned wisdom, nor have I knowledge of the Holy One.  Proverbs 30:1-3 ESV

That proverb pretty much sums up how I’ve been feeling. 

There’s no good reason for how I’m feeling; hence, the “stupid” part seems especially applicable.  I’ve been enjoying a reasonably restful season, physically, at least.  My mind, on the other hand, is weary from working overtime.  That’s not unusual.

We just enjoyed a wonderful – though stressful – bit of family time.   My son, his wife, and my grandson, who I hadn’t seen in over a year, came for an all-too-brief visit to the US.  Since visits are rare, I felt compelled to gather the immediate family from where they were scattered, and with just couple of flights and far too much driving, I succeeded.

I always have visions of happy gatherings in the family home, with laughter and conversations as we work together in the kitchen, sit around the table sharing meals, and enjoy a nice board game or similar activity in the living room.  The problem is, there’s no family home.  We live in a one bedroom travel trailer in a 55+ RV park, and though we don’t technically qualify to live there just yet, they had space available for a few months.  It’s quiet there, and we enjoy the relative peace our little house affords.  Most of the time.

Our home is not the most suitable place for six adults and a toddler to have a pleasant visit for any length of time.  It’s summer in Florida, and that means rain most afternoons.  We live near the water, so that means mosquitoes.  And it’s too hot to be outside for any length of time anyway.

So, as soon as we found out the kids were coming in from Brazil, I frantically began looking for a “family home” we could adopt (rent) for a few weeks.  I quickly discovered that such places rent for substantially more than we make, so that part of the dream fizzled out pretty quickly.  Sort of.  It should have.  But, me being me, I still spent many of my waking moments conducting yet another web search to see if I could find a suitable gathering space.  I never found such a space.

Nonetheless, I was able to convince my daughter to take time off from work and make a seven hour drive down to see her brother and finally meet her nephew.  I convinced my mother to take time off from work to make a much longer trip down to see her grandson and finally meet her great-grandson.  I flew to North Carolina to make the drive with her.

I did absolutely everything in my power to create the Norman Rockwell gathering that was pictured in my mind.  I ended up with National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation!  Really, it was not even that.  There were a few moments where we squeezed the entire clan into the tenement-on-wheels and were able to chat briefly.  We did manage to sit around a table together, outside, at a restaurant.  At one point, we attempted a couple of games of “Go Fish,” which is a lot more fun with a toddler than without.  In fact, we enjoyed a lot of nice moments together.  In between, there was an abundance of stress, and frustration, and near Griswold-level dysfunction.

And in this moment, I am so grateful for every frustrating second of that visit.  I feel ashamed for how weary the stress of the month had left me.  And I am embarrassed at how concerned I have been about things of little consequence.

As I contemplate the felt-injustices of life, frustrated by circumstances that feel as though will never change, I realize how very blessed I am.  And I am reminded of how quickly life can change.  Indeed, life on this earth is fleeting, at best.

Because while I was melting-down yesterday over being turned down for a job for which I’d applied, I was reminded of a childhood acquaintance whose story I’d recently stumbled onto.  And I took some time to pray and to express my gratitude to my loving heavenly Father.  Yeah, there’s some dysfunction in my camp, but right now we are all healthy.  Meanwhile, this acquaintance sits in a hospital with family and friends as his young adult child fights for his life.  But for a miracle, this family will face the unthinkable.  And my heart breaks for them.

And I am reminded that what I consider to be hard is, in fact, not hard at all.  My house may be small.  My finances may be tight.  I may face a little professional rejection.  My family may not see eye-to-eye on everything, and we may never have a proper Hallmark-movie-worthy family gathering.  I may not spend time with my son again for many months, and my grandson will likely be quite a bit older when next I can wrap my arms around him. 

I suspect that there are many families out there that would gladly trade places with me.  There are surely families who would wait happily for months or years to see their sons, if it meant that they would see their sons again in this life.  Some would gladly trade their big fancy houses for my little trailer if their loved ones were alive and able to come visit. 

It’s not Christmas time, but I’m having a bit of a “George Bailey” moment, realizing that it really is a wonderful life that I have.  I am so incredibly blessed today, and I pray that when truly difficult days come, that I will remember then that I am still blessed.  Circumstances change, but my God remains.  He is faithful in ALL the circumstances. 

So, yeah, I can be kind of stupid, as the writer of the proverb observed to be common to man; and I often lack understanding.  But I’m feeling a bit less weary, and a lot more grateful.  And I pray that along the way, just maybe, I’ll learn a bit more wisdom.

Wisdom tells me that perhaps the solution to being weary and worn out is simple gratitude.  I’m certainly going to give it a try.

…Just a thought…