Laughing at the future

It's been just over two weeks since my van stopped working on the exit ramp about an hour from home. We were headed to a giant water park, courtesy of a friend, and I had pulled off just a mile or so from our destination, children eager to spend the day having fun, when my trusty Honda just died. No warning. No drama. Just a refusal to run any further. 

Fast forward to this week, and my husband is away on a business trip when the mechanic calls to give me the bad news that there is little hope of recovery. It took all my self-control not to....cry? 

Nope... Laugh. 

Crazy, huh? Just bubbling up inside of me was laughter. Not the crazy, maniacal laughter of one gone mad, but joyous, free laughter. It was uncanny. In fact, even as I retell this story, I can feel it deep inside. 

I know there is nothing funny about the prospect of purchasing a new vehicle when we thought this one would last us another five to eight years. When we just put our fourth kiddo in braces. When we just paid for a choir tour, fixed the electric, and put in some new windows. Suddenly, "Jesus take the wheel" has a whole new meaning. 🤣🤣🤣

In the midst of all this, however, is such joy. Inexplicable, unnatural joy. 

I'm reminded of the verse in Proverbs 31:25: "She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." Oh, I'm laughing alright. You can, too.

Laughter is a good medicine (Proverbs 17:22). Like Sarah, when God fulfilled His promise to her, we can laugh (Gen. 21:6). 

When faced with the impossibility of her situation, Sarah fought despondency. It's easy to default to depression and despair when hit with the unknown and impossible, but the good news is that things are neither unknown nor impossible to the creator of the universe. 

My van could have stopped working when I was in the left lane of the interstate, but it didn't. It could have given out on me in the middle of a busy NJ intersection, but it didn't. I could have stalled while merging into busy traffic or when my husband was away on a business trip, but that's not what happened. Instead, it stopped functioning on a wide exit ramp within walking distance of a Burger King, so I could at least feed my kids lunch while we waited for help. Isn't God good?

So, when the world seems to be falling in around us, we can laugh. When life throws curveballs, we can laugh. Yes, Sarah's laughter came after the fulfillment of God's promise to her, but once we know in Whose hand we are held, we can laugh even before we see the answer. We can laugh without fear because we know the faithfulness of the one Who holds us.

The One Who Sees Me

The day is finally here. 

The one we’ve anticipated for several years. The one that seemed so far away when I sat in that first parent meeting nearly four years ago. Today is the day that C, my oldest son, newly 12, gets to board his first airplane and head away on tour for ten days. Without me. No contact. Did I mention ten days?

 

As I spent the last few weeks packing, organizing, ironing, and making sure pants were hemmed and chaperones were informed, while still parenting five other children with jobs, math, tummy aches, church picnics, and orthodontist appointments, I had little time to think. Tonight, however, as I sent children to bed and sat in mine contemplating whether I should sleep for a few hours and trust my ability to respond to a 1:30am alarm call or just wait up until our 2am departure time, I paused and turned to Peter, wondering if he, too, was suddenly struck with the miracle of our situation.

I truly don't know what other tour parents may be concerned about, although I imagine they have the normal worries such as "will my son be homesick, will he remember where I packed his toothbrush, will he even bother to brush his teeth?" I know I saw some emotional moms at the airport a few hours ago worrying about the homestay families or that their boys might not enjoy the flight. The running joke in our house was about the mom who told me a few months ago that she was concerned her son wouldn't eat enough fiber while on tour. Meanwhile, I am concerned my son might become fiber to an alligator on this swamp tour for which I had to sign a waiver!

In reality, however, I confess that I am fighting a bit of worry...will C enjoy flying? If not, will someone comfort him? Who will he look to when he is uncertain about a situation? What if there is a storm? He hates storms. Who will sit with him in my stead? What happens if a meal is delayed? Will he be concerned that he won't be fed? It took him years to overcome his food anxiety. Will his chaperone recognize the signs of confusion or distress that I have learned to spot almost before they appear?

Last night, as I sat thinking about how far C has come--from a malnourished infant, to a 3 y/o with a limited vocabulary, to a member of an Emmy-winning, Grammy-nominated choir--I was humbled that God would allow us to have been part of such a miracle, and as I sat praying for this fast-approaching trip, Holy Spirit whispered to my heart, reminding me that my worrying is in vain. 

Most of us are familiar with the story of Abraham and Sarah, but we often overlook or perhaps even look down on Hagar, servant to Sarah and mother to Ishmael. The angel of the Lord, however, did neither. Instead, he appeared to her and blessed her. Genesis 16:13 says she responded in this way:

    "She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her:

    'You are the God who sees me,'

    for she said, 'I have now seen the One who sees me.'"

Hagar had run away into the desert, yet God saw her. When she was alone, He was there. 

The Psalmist wrote: 

    "Where can I go from your Spirit? 

        Where can I flee from your presence?"

Last night, Holy Spirit reminded me that He is El Roi. 

El Roi.

It's the name Hagar gave to the Lord near that spring in the desert. It means "the God Who sees me." 

So, as my phone pings with the notification that C's flight has departed four minutes early, and as my heart speeds up just a tiny bit thinking of him in that flying tube of metal without me, I can rest in knowing that the God Who saw Hagar, the God from Whom David could not flee, is the same God Who will keep watch over my son not only for these next ten days when I cannot, but also for the rest of eternity. 

O what peace we often forfeit,

    O what needless pain we bear,

all because we do not carry

    Everything to God in prayer. 

(1855, Joseph Medlicott Scriven)