To Have Wings Like a Dove

Posted by on Feb 7, 2014 in Articles | 0 comments

It’s been a rotten day.  Nothing truly terrible has happened – no illness, no catastrophes, no kids in jail (yet), no bodily harm has been inflicted (yet).  It’s just been, well, rotten.  It’s been one of those “all the little things have added up” sorts of days.

 

I didn’t sleep well last night (So? What’s new?)  I was awakened at 5:15 by my wonderful, noisy husband who was trying a little too hard to not be noisy.  I dozed until 6:30, at which time he always kisses me good-bye and wishes me a good day before he leaves for work.  I drifted back to sleep, only to have the phone ring at 6:45, the elderly woman on the other end offering a brief “wrong number” before hanging up.  (I must add this same elderly woman has averaged 3 times a week for the past two weeks her “wrong number call,” only at a later, more agreeable time!)  I threw off the covers, mumbled my disdain at being up so early, having only about three or four hours of sleep to sustain me as I slid out of bed, tripped over the dog who yelped and looked at me like I was a demon from the outer limits…get the idea?

 

The morning progressed much the same – spilled coffee grounds, a loose string in the carpet catching on the vacuum cleaner brush, the dog losing her breakfast on said carpet (and I don’t mean that she tipped the bowl over!), the list goes on.  Add to it the little voice in my head pointing out all that is wrong in my own little world – a new book in progress that isn’t progressing so well, a published book that isn’t moving any too quickly toward the bestsellers list, an article that’s a week behind, a grown step-child in more trouble.  The voice pointing out that it’s really my own failure and inadequacies that I have to blame.  Even the radio was offering advice I didn’t want to hear.  By the time I’d cleaned the carpet for the third time and the snow hard started coming down outside my window, adding to our already almost 300” for the season, I was ready to pack my bags and fly to New Zealand!

 

I grabbed my coffee, dropped into a chair and looked up to the ceiling.  “God, I can’t take anymore.”

 

All the “junk” that can possibly pile into your thoughts assaulted me like a flood.  I couldn’t help thinking about every little thing that has been going on – from the serious to the silly (the leaky roof is one thing, but getting irritated over a few more gray hairs?)  I seriously wanted to just run away, to leave Eric a note (“Hey, I love you, Honey, but I need a break from life.  I’ll send a postcard and see you sometime in the spring.”), jump into the car and just drive away.

 

“Really, God, I don’t know how to pray about this.”  I stared out the window at the falling snow and sipped my coffee.  My Bible was close, but I’ll be honest, I had to force myself to pick it up, force my hands to open the cover, and force my fingers to turn the pages.  I really wasn’t in the mood.  I wanted to enjoy my misery a little while longer.

 

“So I said, ‘Oh, that I had wings like a dove!  I would fly away and be at rest.  Indeed, I would wander off and be in the wilderness.  (Selah)  I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.”  Psalm 55:6-8

 

“Yep, that about sums it up,” I thought after reading the words.  “King David hit the nail right on the head!”

 

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be shaken.”  Psalm 55:22

 

“Okay, God.  The burden is yours.”  I said (admittedly a little sarcastically) as I closed my Bible and stared again out the window.  The snow had stopped and the sun was shining.  There was not, however, any great burst of joy within me, no great lifting of my spirits.  I still felt somewhat downtrodden.

 

I guess I wanted a flood of relief, some great “Ah, my life is grand!” kind of feeling.  I wanted a lightening bolt of inspiration for my writing, or a phone call from the New York Times informing me that my novel was at least in the top 100, or at the very least for the dog to stop being sick on the carpet.  None of that happened.  What I did feel, though, is peace.  That sunlight glistening on the white mountains of snow and its warmth penetrating the window was a nudge, a little whisper reminding me that whatever is going on, God is here.  It’s cold and tiresome, but the Son is here.  My burdens are His.  They may not cease; I may still have to deal with the elderly “wrong number caller” and the sick dog.  God never promises to take it all away.  But, He does promise that He’ll “sustain” us through the storms.

 

The sun’s still shining.  No new spots of “rottenness” have added to my day.  God’s peace is still with me.  I admit New Zealand still looks pretty appealing, but “here” doesn’t look as bad as it did this morning.  I can handle being “here,” thanks to the presence of God.

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