Encouragement – Life Love Laughter Linds

My dear friend Amy Weatherly shared some insightful words on Facebook this morning. (I call her my dear friend, but I’ve never met her in real life, but I love incredibly much because she shares such transparent words of beautiful encouragement in the vehicle of social media and I’m sure if we met face to face we’d totally be BFFs because she speaks my language.)

I was musing on what to share in relation to Good Friday and Easter Sunday, but nothing was quite right. Then I read Amy’s post and realised what she said was meaningful and relevant and perfect. Maybe somebody reading this post needs the reminder.

Waiting is hard. We tend to be impatient by nature. Just hold on tightly to hope. Stand firmly in your faith. The story isn’t over yet.

Here is Amy’s wisdom:

“Friday was dark. Friday was death. Friday was mourning, and weeping, and pain.

Sunday was light. Sunday was life. Sunday was rejoicing, and crying happy tears, and hope.

But what about Saturday? What about the Sabbath? What about the middle day? What was going on? How were people feeling?

We don’t really know a ton, honestly.

The disciples scattered. They fled. They ran. They hid.

I’m assuming they were scared and unsure, probably in a state of shock and disbelief, wondering if they were next. Maybe mad. Probably sad. Probably confused. Probably wondering what was next for them.

Their entire lives had just been turned upside down and inside out.

The women were preparing. They were gathering oils and spices.

I’m assuming they had no clue what was coming. I’m assuming they believed this was the end. I’m assuming they were wreaked with grief.

Saturday—the day in-between—it was a day of waiting, and waiting is one of the more difficult things in life.

It’s hard when you’re waiting for someone to return your call. It’s hard when you’re in the middle of an argument and you don’t know how the whole thing is going to play out. It’s hard when your kids are going through a season of change.

It’s hard when you’re waiting on a diagnosis. Its hard when you’re waiting for treatment. It’s hard when you’re waiting on a job. It’s hard when you’re waiting on love. It’s hard when you’re waiting on a baby. It’s hard when you’re waiting on depression to subside.

It’s hard when you feel like giving up. It’s hard when you feel like throwing in the towel. It’s hard when you feel like nothing good is happening, and like nothing good will ever happen again.

Whether you’ve been waiting one day, one year, or one-half or your life, it’s just plain hard.

I don’t know much. I’m not a scholar. I’m not anything special. At all. At all. At all.

But I know this: Jesus was still working when no one could see it. Jesus was still fighting when no one could feel it. Jesus was still fulfilling promises and making things happen, because Jesus doesn’t mess around, and Jesus doesn’t let things go to waste.

Friday was good. Sunday was great. But there was a purpose to that day of waiting too.

I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know how long you’ve been waiting. I don’t know what the ultimate plan for your life is, and I definitely don’t know what your future holds, but Jesus does.

Hold on to hope. Sunday is coming.

Happy Easter.”

Original post can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/2010855982483981/posts/2355385844697658/

I had some hours owing this week and decided it was time for an overdo salon visit followed by lunch with a friend. However, despite my best intentions and contingency plans and schedule adjustments, when my feet hit the floor I just knew that today wasn’t going to be “my day” – even though, for everyone else’s safety and my own sanity – I really need a day for me.

The oldest got ready with excitement and speed as it’s the first ski club session of the year. The youngest lagged and lagged and eventually moved from the bed to the couch, looking decidedly pale and green. He’s currently tucked up beside me in our bed because whether you’re 11 or 37 years of age, we all want our mamas close when we’re feeling crummy.

As parents and partners this is often what our days look like. We make our plans and our plans change because life throws some little hiccups and giant monkey wrenches our way. We’re up to our necks in chaos and tears and laughter and cookies and completely forget ourselves. (What’s my name again?!) We understand the importance of self-care and independence, but also know that sacrifice and caring for others are just as important in the balance of a healthy relationship.

So today is not my day, and if I wasn’t consumed with endless love for this child of mine, I’d be upset that he sabotaged my plans… and I’m human enough to admit I’m frustrated – with the curveball, not with him. I’m feeling a little helpless because my care doesn’t seem to be soothing and a little angry that we’ve been hit with something again. I’m definitely irritated that I can’t make things better and have been washing my hands like crazy.

There are days… days when it seems to a stressed out mama or other caregiver that they’re always the ones who have to bend. There are days when they’ll feel like they’re stuck in the trenches with no hope of ever climbing out. There are days when they’ll be holding puke buckets or little hands or bottomless laundry baskets…. and all they really want is a Frappucino and a spa day. These are the days that they need you.

Let your fellow mamas know that even though life can change at the drop of the hat or gust of the wind, they are never alone. Let them know they have a comrade in the nitty gritty ins and outs of this parenting gig. Check in on the strong and silent ones too – not everyone knows how to reach out when they’re drowning.

Be a comfort – send an encouraging text, commiserate over the phone, surprise them with some takeout and offer to fold a load of laundry (but don’t mention the dishes in the sink) and remind them that their day is coming.

And if it is your day? Think of all the strength you can lend! I’m a little jealous, to be honest. Maybe tomorrow will be my day…. in the meantime, those laundry baskets are mocking me and I have a great excuse to dive into a new book without feeling guilty!