Welcome to Facets of Faith, space where three friends share their thoughts and experiences on life, friendship, and faith. We also introduce you to other friends who share their perspectives. Today, I (Kim) am excited to introduce you to Anna. Anna and I met about eighteen months ago when I interviewed for a job in Massachusetts. If you were able to sit with her over a cup of coffee, you would be encouraged, challenged, and prayed over with a faith that moves mountains.
Being a pastor’s wife and mom to four adorable kids, Anna has learned how to sing in every season. So grab that cup of coffee, settle in, and be ready to be encouraged as she shares what helps her sing in April’s showers.
The Hospital
I think it’s unlikely to be appendicitis.
I chocked back a sob. The young doctor was uncomfortable and shrugged off the yellow protection robe.
She is really in pain, I said pushing back the hair on my three-year-olds forehead. Right around the belly button.
This wasn’t our first rodeo. Samantha has Cystic Fibrosis, a chronic disease that affects the lungs and other organs, clogging them with sticky mucus. This trip to the ER, however, was accompanied by my 18-month-old son and, without daddy to help, I was in a glass case of emotion. I tried to keep them occupied with Paw Patrol episodes on the iPad.
Samantha started freaking out about the IV. I knelt by her bed and positioned her face to look me in the eyes. I calmed her. Look at me, it’s okay. I love you. I know it hurts and I’m right here.
I turned to the doctor. I just think I need to talk to someone from her clinic?
He tapped the clipboard and went to find another doctor. My phone vibrated with a text from my friend.
I’m praying its not appendicitis.
I’m actually kind of hoping it is! I tapped back.
For her, it could easily be something worse. I took a deep breath and pulled my son onto my lap, kissing his warm fuzzy head. I put my other hand on Samantha’s arm and waited.
Perspective
In my family, we focus on a word each season –biblical words that emphasize God’s character or the fruit of the Spirit. Last summer it was contentment. In the fall, it was faithfulness. This spring season our word is peace.
Ironic. Maybe…
Since plastering that word adorned with rainbows stickers on the fridge, my five-year-old had broken her arm, and now my three-year-old was at the ER. We had just gotten off a merry-go-round of awful winter diseases and daddy was away on ministry. I could only cry, God, what are you doing?!
I suppose I’ve learned by now that when you ask for a trait from the Lord he will be faithful in answering. He will grow you into it. He will teach you, sometimes painfully. PEACE.
Jesus said,
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27ESV
Learning to Sing
As we waited in the hospital, Sammy requested a song we’d been blasting in the van. Peace overwhelming peace is the chorus to the electronic dance track. It felt funny to listen to it in the ER, but it made us both smile even as I felt tears on my cheeks.
How do I sing in April showers? Through the tears. Because of Jesus, my current level of happiness doesn’t determine my peace. My inner security isn’t based on my circumstance even when it hurts. I’ve found in suffering our praise becomes not just encouragement, but our warfare.
David in the psalms writes,
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Pslam 121:1-2
After several, owies, pokes and tests. Add an MRI machine constructed to look like a giant sandcastle and it turned out, she did have appendicitis. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My mom-intuition was correct. Thank you, Lord, you are good! I whispered as we wheeled her out of the test room.
Before she went into surgery, we recited the verse we’d been learning at home.
You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Is. 26:3
Rain doesn’t always obscure our view. Sometimes it cleans the grime from the windshield. That means I can cry and praise at the same time. Hands lifted, reciting God’s promises on an ER fold-out chair. I can be honest with Jesus because he knows. My prayer lately during a season of showers? Jesus, let this storm rage around me but not within me.
When my eyes are fixed on HIM and not the storm I can hear him say, Look at me, it’s okay. I love you. I know it hurts and I’m right here. And then together, we sing in the rain.