Anyone out there wear glasses? If so, do you remember how you felt when you put on your first pair of glasses and suddenly the blobs on the trees were leaves, and they were all sorts of colors of green, and had distinct borders and you could see them flutter individually?
Or maybe you have an experience where you’ve worn cheap, flat soled shoes for so many years, and when you put on a pair of well made, arch supporting shoes, your feet don’t even feel like they belong to you?
Or, especially in the wintertime, do you ever recall living with the grey for so long that when sunny skies visit, you almost cry out with gratitude (not to mention energy)?
In my examples above, there’s no REAL lack. Indeed, someone who wears prescription glasses might say she’s “blind without her glasses”; but generally speaking, those of us who need glasses aren’t blind. We just don’t see as clearly as we’d like to. We’ve all worn flat sandals or tennies, and can state (especially knowing that there are people without even one pair of shoes) that though not ideal, those shoes are good enough for most days. And, as someone who lives in the Seattle area, I will also admit that it is possible to survive our grey winters without a sunny vacation in the midst of them (ahem, barely).
Sometimes good enough is good enough. It’s our portion. Our peace and contentment lie in giving thanks for the good enough. The Lord doesn’t promise an easy life; instead, He promises that those who love Him will have an abundant one.
And sometimes, God just lavishes miraculous blessing and healing upon us for no other discernible reason (to us) than we’re His kids and he loves us.
I’m writing because I want to share what God healed in me. He healed a part of me that I really had no idea was broken, as it had been under good enough repair for years.
Jehovah Rapha healed my heart.
My son had a birthday party yesterday. He had five friends over for lunch and gaming, and my husband and I fixed all the usual fare: burgers, dogs, chicken, and of course, a cookies and cream birthday cake. The party began just after noon, and the last guest left last night at 11:30. Oh, and there were even
nerdy gaming presents. Which so delighted my son to receive and his friends to give.
My son is 20, and this was his first party in about 10 years. But let’s just call it a get together, okay? Because that sounds more cool.
Because of his wicked amazing intelligence and some social differences due to his being on the autism spectrum, making and holding onto friends, especially those his age, has been difficult. Over the years, each time his birthday rolls around, he’s faced with the recent memory of his (typically developing) sister’s party of the month before, while my husband and I try feverishly to make his day special, too–to make up for the lack of friends in his life. But he’s smart. He knows that one can’t get blood out of a turnip (thank you Mum and Grum for my colloquialisms), and that we have a limited resource from which to pull folks for celebrating. And the tears I have cried over this could fill a lake.
However, God has been faithful. Even in the super lean friend years, we have always had a former teacher (who is a dear friend), a kind adult friend, or a family member who has stepped forward to help make the day a memorable one for our son. But it’s not the same as just having your people over and doing your thing and enjoying the easy conversation and company. And that’s just what he did. In fact, after the last guest left and our son came up to say goodnight, I asked how it went. After all, we’re not talking about the biggest extrovert on the personality spectrum. Eleven and a half hours of socializing is a LOT, for anyone. He told us he had a great time. I asked him what they talked about.
“Everything and nothing.”
Sounds just about perfect to me. Thank you God for loving this kid so much. And for loving me, too. Jehovah Rapha. The God who heals.