It has been a while since I blogged. Life has been a little overwhelming lately and I have not been very inspired to share. To be honest, I kind of lost my voice. It has been a year filled not only with many new experiences that have posed needed adjustments, but numerous insignificant yet bothersome physical ailments. Despite my struggle to stay on top of things, I have spun quite often into despair and despondency. So I entered into the season of Advent not feeling quite my best, nor able to give much to anyone.
E said something to me a couple of weeks ago, a statement I found most liberating: It's okay not to be strong all the time. I had shared with him that I was not in a good place physically and that this posed quite a challenge for me emotionally.
Yes, it's okay to struggle, to fall, and to lean on those around you. There is no shame in admitting I am weak, that I have faults and failings only those who choose to love me can accept.
In the midst of my suffering, I often ask when will it end, yet knowing at the same time, I will be given the inner strength to deal with it. Thus I have found that suffering does not define me, nor should I let it do so.
I can still laugh with joy and sing with gratitude for all the good things that have been given to me. As E told me when she saw me last, rather than look at life as being filled with challenges, look at things, events that happen, as part of a season in life and allow myself to waver and stumble, taking one step at a time. Perfection is not required. I also needed to remember to articulate my difficulties, share them, rather than keep it all bottled up inside of me.
As I prayed the sorrowful mysteries this morning, I could see that Jesus allowed the events that were to happen play out fully. At no point in time did He protest or throw in the towel. He knew what was going to happen but still he underwent the betrayal, the unjust accusations, the humiliation of abuse and torture, the excruciating walk to Calvary and its final horror of crucifixion.
He bore the cross alone and walked, bowed under the weight, stumbling often. On the way, He accepted the assistance of Simon the Cyrenian, He let Veronica to wipe His face, He met His Mother, exchanging looks of grief-filled love, and He acknowledged the weeping women of Jerusalem.
In my own life who am I to eschew suffering? Nor should I demand perfection out of everything in life, especially what I do. Certainly what I can do to change things around I will do, in my own limited way, but what is not within my control I can accept with grace and act with integrity and selfless love, always reaching out to others as He did at each juncture.
As I wait for the Christ child to be born and to eventually grow up into the Messiah who redeems me, I let go of my pain, my despair, the things I cannot change, all of life's imperfections, and I look forward to His birth with anticipation and joy. I can do great things through Him only if I allow Him to be born in my heart. O come Immanuel. You will be my inner strength.
E said something to me a couple of weeks ago, a statement I found most liberating: It's okay not to be strong all the time. I had shared with him that I was not in a good place physically and that this posed quite a challenge for me emotionally.
Yes, it's okay to struggle, to fall, and to lean on those around you. There is no shame in admitting I am weak, that I have faults and failings only those who choose to love me can accept.
In the midst of my suffering, I often ask when will it end, yet knowing at the same time, I will be given the inner strength to deal with it. Thus I have found that suffering does not define me, nor should I let it do so.
I can still laugh with joy and sing with gratitude for all the good things that have been given to me. As E told me when she saw me last, rather than look at life as being filled with challenges, look at things, events that happen, as part of a season in life and allow myself to waver and stumble, taking one step at a time. Perfection is not required. I also needed to remember to articulate my difficulties, share them, rather than keep it all bottled up inside of me.
As I prayed the sorrowful mysteries this morning, I could see that Jesus allowed the events that were to happen play out fully. At no point in time did He protest or throw in the towel. He knew what was going to happen but still he underwent the betrayal, the unjust accusations, the humiliation of abuse and torture, the excruciating walk to Calvary and its final horror of crucifixion.
He bore the cross alone and walked, bowed under the weight, stumbling often. On the way, He accepted the assistance of Simon the Cyrenian, He let Veronica to wipe His face, He met His Mother, exchanging looks of grief-filled love, and He acknowledged the weeping women of Jerusalem.
In my own life who am I to eschew suffering? Nor should I demand perfection out of everything in life, especially what I do. Certainly what I can do to change things around I will do, in my own limited way, but what is not within my control I can accept with grace and act with integrity and selfless love, always reaching out to others as He did at each juncture.
As I wait for the Christ child to be born and to eventually grow up into the Messiah who redeems me, I let go of my pain, my despair, the things I cannot change, all of life's imperfections, and I look forward to His birth with anticipation and joy. I can do great things through Him only if I allow Him to be born in my heart. O come Immanuel. You will be my inner strength.
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