Light is Light

Light is light. No matter how dim, no matter how bright.

Light is light.

I found myself saying this to a friend today. A friend, who in the midst of his own pain, was able to bless our family with a meal, and took a moment on the phone to ask how we are fairing. George, who was supposed to be in Beaver this weekend, had to call off his trip due to the flu-like symptoms that suddenly took over my body on Thursday. There would have been absolutely no way I could have handled the kids and the care-taking of the house for showings, unless he remained at home. And thus, he did.

And not only did he stay home to help, but our surrounding troops stepped in with hugs, prayer, meals, phone calls from lifelong friends, babysitting for Zane, rides to get Harper to/from a party, more meals, and just your good 'ole down home support. A few friends from church, neighbors, Lincolnwood parents, college buds (Stacey, I will call you back - post illness) and MK ladies all picked up the baton and ran for us. I have a lot of Thank You notes to write. Gladly.

This does a lot to help adjust one's perspective on things. As I said to George earlier, "My perspective on this entire house-selling experience has indeed changed (for the better - although I would never wish selling a home in a recession on ANYONE), even if it doesn't actually relieve the pain." The pain of fatigue, stress (seriously, I think I have mini heart-attacks throughout the day), and more fatigue has taken over my body. I am so far from being the "me" I know myself to be, and am aching, literally aching, for myself to return. For even though I can see pockets of light, I am still in the midst of feeling physical pain.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

God has changed my perspective through His very presence and through the presence of His people. My children are also those people. If you've never thought of your children as being a spiritual support, then I challenge you to listen to them a bit more closely.

I've got my daughter, who before leaving for school, joins me on the bed while I lay there languishing in chills, aches, and fever, so she can read me the 23rd Psalm and share with me that God is Peace.

I've got my son, who shares with us that "I love Jesus so much in my heart" and than taps his head while saying, "I love Him in my mind also."

This same little boy, who at times baffles us with is spiritually mature perspective, also made mention of our friend's grief in losing their newborn baby. Upon my sharing that little Leah is in Heaven with Jesus, he made this remarkably intuitive statement, "That is so sad. But it is so good! Amy's baby is touching Jesus right now because Jesus is the only one who can make her feel better."

Seriously, what is a parent to do with that other than leave the room in tears? And then, before the moment fades, call Leah's parents who love Jesus with their whole being, and yet still bear the pain of loss.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

This type of heartfelt proclamation can not be taught to a child. This is way more internal than I can ever hope to reach in the life of my kids. This is God territory.

I could care less if my kids have the books of the bible memorized, whether they know when the walls of Jericho fell or can tell me on what animal Paul was riding during his conversion.

All of that can be looked up in the Table of Contents or Index.

On the other hand, the prompting of my children to point me towards the light of God is completely spirit-led. No Table of Contents needed. That other stuff will come, but the depth? I'm beginning to see it within them, without their knowing exact bible facts and figures.

I can now see the many lights that God has been planting throughout this experience. He, the Ultimate Light, has also graced me with the light of friendship, the light of encouragement from my children, and the light of confirmation that He has indeed called us to this move.

Light is light. Dim or bright.

Gotta keep my eye on it.