Tag: expectations

Welcome, Lord

- dannalundstrom

Weary, friend, I know the road you are traveling feels lonely, exhausting and at times unbearable. Sometimes you are so ready for peace, and it feels like God is not answering your plea for help.

This week The Lord has been reminding me that often I am more disillusioned by the failure of my arrangements than the fruition of His answers. He is answering, but probably not within the parameters of the controlled, tidy box where I frame MY plans. His purpose is much higher than we can imagine, and God’s seemingly silent ambivalence does not mean absence, but very often action.

It is within the realm of our trials that the resurrection is awakening.

Remember, not to put your outcome in a box; God does not fit there. Keep looking up. Take the next right step and remain faithful.  As pilgrims, we must not get so busy wishing ourselves out of situations that we forget to welcome God into them.

I love this quote and hope it encourages you:

“The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.”
Elisabeth Elliot, Keep a Quiet Heart

You are loved!♥️

Parent’s Prayer

- dannalundstrom 1 Comment

 

As the beginning of a new month and week dawns, bless all of us moms and dads, Father.  This parenting gig is hard, but you already know that.  You know every battle, grief, and gratitude of each parent.  Remind us these are not our children, but yours, God.  It is easy to beat ourselves up over their vices and puff ourselves up with their victories.  Give us wisdom to understand that while we play a role in every aspect of their lives; ultimately we cannot take responsibility anymore for their feats than their failures.  As it is with us, their struggles and their successes are yours, Father.  Us moms and dads, though, we bear them, too.  Performance becomes a heavy cross that burdens our hearts and blurs our gaze.  You often use the unexpected to change the expected.  We are prone to forget we are not in control, being quick to angst and slow to assurance.  Parenting is fertile ground for insidious places of unbelief to gain a foothold in our loving hearts.  Wrongly, “certainty” allures us into comfort and uncertainty into chaos.  May we remember we are our children’s earthly shepherds, not their eternal Saviors.  We play a part in the objective but do not direct the outcome.  In our limited insight, defeats can seem doom, and accomplishments are assuring.  These are the things that we use to misshape our peace and righteousness, Father.  Assist us in quick recognition and repentance of the deceptively, filthy rags we dress in.  Continue whispering in our ears; it is not about the accomplishments but You-The Author.  It is not about defeated paths but divine pictures.  We lose sight of this when it is all up to us, God.  That is just it.  We forget it is less about us and our “stellar” parenting and more about You and Your sovereign plan.  Allow us to love each child as you made them, not as we imagined them.  As try out season, course card decisions,  college and career selections, and so much more are all occupying our minds, God unburden our hearts with the weight of determined desires.  Allow our freedom from the obligation of expectations, and gift us with rest in Your destination.  Amen.

Fragmented Edges, Hopeful Hearts

- dannalundstrom

Carter had his first of three appointments with the vision doctor yesterday. We were there two hours; it felt like five. It was a long afternoon, and very taxing for him physically, and ultimately emotionally.

I think it is difficult in any situation to not form expectations in our heads. This holds true in happy scenarios and difficult ones. Our pictures, which are very often our own worst enemies, can be thieves of peace when they develop differently than how they looked from behind the lens of our vision.

I went into yesterday’s appointment knowing there were visual issues; I just didn’t realize the extent and multitude of them. It honestly felt like the air had been sucked out of my sails, as I was not prepared.

I know many of you moms know this and live this every day, when you hear a doctor tell your child something like, “I know you don’t much joy in your life right now, and it may be that way for a while,” that is heart breaking! Even harder, I am forty-two. I can reason and find gratitude amidst the grief. For a fifteen year old boy, that is an arduous task, further clouded by the effects of a head injury.

Sometime after we got home from Oregon, I found a white, small bag in my laundry room. I didn’t know what it was or where it came from. We had very little luggage, and I never saw it in Carter’s hospital room or in any of our bags. I have no idea how it got in my laundry room. When I opened it up, it smelled awful, and I immediately knew it was something that had been wet, and in that bag for a long time. Upon pulling it out, I felt my heart rise to the top of my throat, and sink with a hard painful plunge into the depths of my stomach.

It was the swimsuit Carter was wearing when his accident happened. It was shredded and frayed because it had been cut off his body. I cannot adequately describe the intense infusion of opposite emotions at that moment as I sunk to the cold, hard ground. It was like being pulled between intimidating agony and intense appreciation. I cried and then I rejoiced right there on the uninviting but accommodating laundry room floor.

My first thought was to throw that swimsuit away, but for a reason I then did not understand, I could not do it. I washed it, folded it and put it on my laundry room shelf. It is in a spot that I see it every time I go in that room, which is frequent. Now and then I pick it up and hold it close to me. Each time I do this, the frayed, rough edges that are image bearers of the sharp edges that grazed them catch my eye. I keep being drawn to their messy appearance that is a remnant of the trauma that ensued.

It occurred to me one day that those edges keep beckoning my attention because they represent something important. That battered swimsuit is a great representation of both tragedy and triumph. It makes me think of what Jesus’ robe must have looked like at the end of his journey which would also illustrate great despair, but not void of eternal hope.

Life is kind of like Carter’s fragmented swimsuit. Sometimes things cut us up, unravel our plans and leave us feeling weary and worn, but when we live in the shadows of a Savior, we are never without hope, and we are ensured an ultimate victory. That is great news that we continue to rest in daily!

We continue to covet your prayers for healing friends. I am grateful and encouraged by all of you. Thank you from the deepest places of my heart.