The immense work load that's been hanging onto me, threatening me, since the beginning of the six weeks has been making me physically exhausted. To get me up in the mornings my mom has to pour water on my face because I'm not waking up, even though I have my alarm clock set on top volume. Not only top volume, but I put it on the heavy metal station so I'm forced to get out of bed and shut it up, lest I want my ears to bleed. But that's not the real problem. The problem is time for other things. Priorities. I just found out that Olivia thinks I hate her, because I never have time for her. She thinks I want nothing to do with her, and to be honest that scares me more than making a C on the report card. And now the doctors are saying that she has brain trouble, and a cist in her eye, and she's a slow learner.
So we invited Loryn and her over for a sleep over. Except while Olivia and Loryn painted their nails and read and did sleepover things, I found myself sitting outside their door, listening.
"Loryn, I really don't think Cole likes me," Olivia sighed.
"Oh Olivia, trust me. I know Cole. And I know boys. They act weird when they like a girl- in fact when they really like a girl they try to hide it. Why? Because that's the way they are. Weird. And I could tell from the moment he asked where you were, that he liked you big time".
I laughed outside the door, one, because it was funny, and two, because she was quite accurate.
So I walked in and they stared at me as if I had walked in on them using the restroom. I was not on their level. Needless to say I spent the night with the dog.
When really, I wanted to make Olivia like me again, force my presence at her, prove to her that I did want to spend time with her. But she didn't respond.
And so where's God now? Where is God for Olivia when I know she needs him? Where is God when things go wrong? Where is the God that says he nurtures us, but then here's Olivia being told that she's not expected to grow any more? And where's God when I look for him but it's as if he was just some dream I happened to imagine? Does he really walk out?
No.
He doesn't.
Someone mentioned this at a Wednesday-night home group a couple weeks ago and it's stuck to my heart like gum to a side walk.
"If God's gotten you this far, do you think he's just going to let you go?"
And so I realized that Olivia's going to turn out, and my job is to be there. I don't care if I have to turn in my math homework a day late. If she needs me, or wants me, I have to be there.
And we can't forget about hope. So often when dark things happen we want to flop down and cry and it's like we never realize that light exits, too. That dark is just the absense of light. That lights dominates and has energy, and is energy, and that when things go wrong, God's a light that never turns off. And I reckon that the hope I have for Olivia is the same sort of hope as someone waiting with a child's patience for the first sprout from a planted seed. (Which reminds me of the poem I had on my last post. You might want to read it again- it's a favorite).
This is what I think about as I ride my bike. Today I rode for a long time, swerving around parked cars and bumpy roads. And without realizing it at the time, I waved at everyone. At the old lady watering her plants, at the pregnant girl sitting on her porch with dark eyes, at the man propped against his car smoking cigarettes. At the young mom walking her two dogs and her baby. And they all waved back. And when I flew past the kids playing in the sprinkler in their front yard, I turned around and asked if they could soak me down with their hose. They did with awkward expressions, and I smiled back.
It's awfully nice when God's there for you.
"The Lord lifts the fallen and those bent beneath their loads" Psalms 145:14
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| Hope by Sebastion |
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