Can we be all done?
My dad is an amazingly talented person. He’s a horticulture professor, Emmy winner, and fantastic public speaker. Oh yeah, and photographer.
Follow him on Facebook as Bryce Lane.
When my kids were babies I wanted them to be able to communicate with me as early as possible, so we taught them some simple sign language. Some of their favorite signs were ‘more’ and ‘all done’; easy to teach since using those signs were particularly useful at mealtime. The sign for ‘all done’ requires the communicator to shake their hands in front of themselves in a pushing away motion. However, my kids never did the sign the correct way but would instead put their slimy meal covered hands into their hair and shake or rub all the stickiness in circular motions into their hair. I didn’t care because I was simply happy they were telling me how they felt, even though it was a messy message, literally.
Recently I feel like I’m frantically trying to communicate with God that I am all done with the hard stuff of life. Current circumstances created by the pandemic and election season have brought me to my knees with frustration and exhaustion. I remind myself that things could be far worse than they are. In spite of the challenges our society and families are facing we have more than enough to be thankful for, but I still feel weight dragging under my feet each step of the day. Heaviness from having no break mothering as school circumstances continue to be confusing and bogged down by unclear questions regarding what’s best for our kids. There is also a weariness coming from the current state of affairs in our country as people argue openly on social media and in person about the right ways to fix all things wrong with our nation.
I feel myself signing all done at God trying to tell him that I would like all of these new difficulties to end. My heart is messy and my message to Him might be incoherent, but I know He hears me. He is listening. He is working. He will care for us.
We can call out to God about our uncertainties and fears knowing He not only hears us but loves us enough to continue sanctifying us in the hardships we face. He isn’t intimidated by our urgent calls and isn’t thrown off by the messy place those cries come from. We can feel free to wave our hands in desperation because God wants us to cry out to him.
Jesus felt in his humanness the desire to be all done with his circumstances as he anticipated the awfulness of going to the cross. He talked to His father and called out to Him knowing God would be with Him through the immense challenges He faced. We don’t have to go to the cross because Jesus obediently did that for us and we get to bask in the benefits He bought for us with his blood.
As a result of His sacrifice we can shout out to the Lord in our exasperation, confident that He not only hears us but understands us. All too often I choose to shout out my fears to the people around me, not to the God who knows the precise number of hairs are on my head. I crumble far too quickly at the first sign of turmoil.
I feel hope in the truth that our messages to God can be frazzled, fearful, and unorganized. He invites us to cry out to Him even when we don’t have the right words to say. The strange circumstances we are in regarding this virus and political climate may still be pressing down hard on our psyches, but we can and should scream out to God in our fatigue knowing He is the giver of momentary and eternal comfort.
Psalm 13: 1-6
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
4 lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
5 But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
6 I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.”
Pictures of babies are always necessary.
