It's blog hop time...kind of. I realize it's Sunday and not Thursday, but some of you may be like me and just now getting around to reading through your email's from this past week, only to catch up on your favorite blogs. Some of you may be even more like me, soothing your inner introvert at 3am by blogging in peace and quiet. If it means something to just one of you reading this, then it is totally worth it. After all, it's better to come late to the party than stay at home. The topic for this month's Hearts at Home blog hop was "Love Your Story".
I grew up watching ABC's Wide World of Sports on Saturdays and loved the line about "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." The images they showed were always so poignantly perfect for those words. If I had video tape footage of my entire life, I could show you brilliant images for both of those phrases. Those words are my story in a nutshell. Since no such video exists, let me paint a picture for you.
You'd need to start with some warm corals. They would represent all the love I felt from my mom and my dad. I was wanted and loved in my family, especially since my mom had lost three babies before me. There were a few sad moments in my childhood, like the loss of pets, that caused a few grumpy streaks of gray in my early childhood, but not enough to overtake the warm corals.
My first stroke of blue came on my seventh birthday, when I sang at my best friend's funeral (along with my other fellow first graders). I had heard the shocking news just a few days earlier, and I couldn't believe that he had actually died. A motorcyclist had raced through an intersection, crashed into the back seat of the car he was riding in, and killed him instantly. Thankfully, my parents both helped me process what had happened and led me to pray to God for help and comfort. So much of my life was still wrapped in love that there was coral added to that blue, which left some soft lavendar at the heart of me.
Then there was an even more intense stroke of blue, so intense that it bordered on the bright cobalt blue that I am so fond of. Six and a half years after my first loss, my dad died of cancer. My dad was a pastor, loved all things holistic long before that was trendy (he plowed up almost our entire yard to plant various beans one year), and had young children not ready to be without their father. I was just thirteen and my brother was almost seventeen. I turned to God again because that was how I was raised and that is what made the most sense to me. He wrapped me in so much love that my cobalt blue had some rich purple to parts to it.
The next portion of my life was so dark that you'd have to paint this part with black. Five and a half years later, I was left with another loss. This one wasn't public or even on anyone's radar. In fact, I held this loss as a secret for thirteen years. There are always two sides to everything. God whispered, "Trust me! I'm still here, and I will bring good from this!" (Romans 8:28) Satan sneared at my loss, hoping I'd wallow in self-pity, and believe that no one could love me if they really knew about secret parts of my picture. (You can read about that part of my canvas here.)
I let myself drift away from God because I distanced myself from "the church", from the hypocrites that I couldn't stand to be apart of. However, motherhood brought me new surprises...a desire for our children to know God. How could I teach them what I was unsure of though? More black snuck onto my picture with the experience of a miscarriage after my first two girls were born, but a soft white glow began to cast it's light on all that black (including my hidden secrets) till it was pushed to the outer limits of my canvas through an event called "The Great Banquet". A few nights after that my secrets came into the open, and I began sharing that part of my story with others (the first time was on the fifteen year anniversary). That's when I finally accepted God's love and began reaching out to others as part of an imperfect church that was made up of us very imperfect people. That love was so warm you'd notice some brilliant red on my canvas as well as the white glow that grew and grew. It overflowed into everything and touched everyone around me. All my life began to make sense in light of this verse: 2 Corinthians 1:3-5. It says, "All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too."
Last year, I was challenged to look for patterns in my life while participating in the study "Believing God". We split our life into five sections; and since I was 36 at the time, that meant looking at seven year periods. I found that I had experienced a major loss of a loved one in each period. God has comforted me through them and placed me in the path of others who have experienced the same things. My loss has helped me to help others who've experienced a miscarriage (and had no one to talk to). My secrets have helped me to stop judging others. God's love has helped me to truly love my story and trust that He is enough even when challenges come.
There may be major losses in the five periods of my life, but you'd be blind to not see the gorgeous green on my canvas as well. He gave me five children to love and be blessed by (and yes, sometimes overwhelmed by...like my recent trip to "Mom's Night Out"). Stand back and take look at the full picture. It's not perfect, or completed yet, but I think that the Painter is beginning to like the way it looks.
Check out more mom's stories at www.jillsavage.org
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