I am slowly learning to stop quoting Romans 8:28 during someone’s lament. Sometimes even my own.

Mary Poppins raised me. I’m not exaggerating. There was always a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, a stream of endless fun coming from her small bag of tricks, and an adventure waiting to be explored in her station wagon. While my dad was usually up for an adventure, it was my mom who showed me the value of creativity and the power of a glass half-full.

After my husband and I had dated for a couple of years, he had a conversation with his mom that I only learned about in the past year. The story goes that after describing all that he loved about me, he added this remark: “But I’m just not sure if she can do hard.”

Unbeknownst to him, I had a similar conversation with myself during that time. I remember thinking, “Until this point, my life has been easy. I’ve never really had my faith tested. I wonder what will happen when that happens?”

If I didn’t believe in God’s providence and sovereignty, I would think we simultaneously put a jinx on the next thirty years of our lives. They’ve been good but hard. They’ve tested our faith. They’ve, at times, left me craving easy. You can read previous posts for specifics, so I won’t go deeper here. But suffice it to say, things haven’t gone the way we planned.

How About You?

Maybe you can identify. Illness, tragedy, loss, or other unplanned events derailed your life and plans. Your circumstances have been beyond your control in your life or the lives of the ones you love. This is where many believers are tempted to insert Romans 8:28, along with many platitudes about God’s goodness and His working all things together for our good. You’ve probably heard them all. And, like me, you even believe them in the core of your being. But that doesn’t always make hearing Romans 8:28 helpful.

God’s goodness does not negate our fallen world’s brokenness. Yes, Jesus endured the cross because of the joy set before him, but do you know what else he did? He asked God to take his suffering away. (Mark 14:36) He sweat drops of blood as he prayed in agony. (Luke 22:44) His soul was overwhelmed with sorrow (Matthew 26:38), and He cried out in a loud voice (Matthew 27:46).

Romans 8:28 remains forever true. But I’ve stopped quoting it in moments meant for lament. It doesn’t make the cross easier to bear. In fact, at times, it can increase the burden of confusion. Ecclesiastes assures me there is a time to laugh and a time to cry. So, know that there is a safe space for you to cry, question, and even despair while being held in the mighty hand of God.

accepting my new normal

Instead of platitudes – even truthful ones – I want to share something given to me eighteen years ago that has stuck with me ever since. It has helped me approach hardships with a little more curiosity and a little less cynicism. It has provided a small measure of hope during the horrible. Even if your situation is different than the author’s, I believe you can identify with the experience of life going differently than planned, and I pray you find hope in her words.  

Welcome To Holland

by Emily Perl Kingsley

Copyright©1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. 

All rights reserved. 

(Reprinted by permission of the author).

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel.  It’s like this……

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy.  You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans.  The Coliseum.  The Michelangelo David.  The gondolas in Venice.  You may learn some handy phrases in Italian.  It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.  You pack your bags and off you go.  Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy!  I’m supposed to be in Italy.  All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan.  They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine, and disease.  It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language.  And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place.  It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy.  But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips.  Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.  And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”  

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.

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I’m praying hope over your life as I click “publish” on this blog post. I’m thankful that my mom not only gave me a foundation in “fun”, but also a quite sturdy one in faith. I can do hard. And so can you.

Blessings,

Shelly

Check out this podcast on a similar topic: Grieving What Never Was