It’s likely the last six months of my life have been harder than anything I’ve encountered in the last 18 years. I wasn’t sure I would emotionally survive to ever make sense of it. And only now am I beginning to see the beauty in suffering.
This winter was my 14th time to suit up and brave the chair lift moving at approximately 88mph. On the eve of our adventure I never sleep well. It’s not from the anticipated excitement, but because I am terribly nervous and tense. I get nauseous, restless and sometimes I give myself an upset stomach just thinking about it. I’ve been to ski school at least twice and I could probably write a lengthy article about the techniques of proper ski control. None of that translates into practical application for me. My leg, knees and ankles are uncooperative with the truth in my brain. My body is weak because it hasn’t been trained for this activity.
Lysa TerKeurst hurt my feelings. Oh yes she did. And the Invisible Me actually slapped her. She didn't do it in a fifth-grade-mean-girl-way. But she stepped on every last nerve I had and now my heart is soft and I've cried most of the day. Thankyouverymuch, Lysa. I wasn't even wearing waterproof mascara. Way to go.
On a recent family vacation I took along her book, The Best Yes, to read in the car. (I'd highly recommend it for any woman who is breathing.) It was a message I knew I needed to hear. Skipping across her words about the dangers of saying yes to everything that comes my way, I received her gentle warnings and instruction with ease. Then she did something that made me consider throwing that adorable book cover out the window to its destructive death along Interstate-70.
He persisted in his desire, stating over and over, "But my heart belongs to God and that is the next step."
I find myself wondering, is he old enough?