On the hard days, when the winds of change and upheaval are blowing strong, it can be a challenge to remain steady in what feels like the storms of life. It can feel like an incredible challenge to find the way back to the safety of the harbor. Those are the days when choosing love matters even more than ever. Those are the days when the anchor of hope is what guides me and reminds me what is truly important. Even so, it can be a battle to maintain my grasp on the anchor line.
Until I look into the eyes of my teenagers.
When I am losing that battle, when I am giving in to the raging storm of circumstances, it is my girls’ eyes that reflect the measure of my actions. It is the emotion registered there that will stop me in my tracks, and in whatever rant I might be in the middle of releasing, like a storm we must all endure. And, quite honestly, I have done this a few too many times in the past few days.
Right now, life is hard and our family is experiencing those circumstances collectively and differently. And I am feeling tossed by the waves and I at times I have lost sight of the harbor.
Until I look into the eyes of my teenagers.
And then I remember the truth and the hope we need right now; they don’t need my rantings and my explosive responses when they are struggling or when they are hurting. They need me to hold fast to the hope and the grace of God. They need me to embrace and embody the peace that passes all understanding and comes only from God. Unfortunately, I don’t always get it right.
Until I look into the eyes of my teenagers.
It is in their eyes that I see the effects of my words and my anger. It is in their eyes where I see the hurt and the struggle and the ways the storms are affecting them, my storms and the storms of our circumstances. Their eyes reflect the measure of hope I am or am not providing.
And, unfortunately, I don’t always get it right. Not right away. For those moments, I seek the grace and the mercy and the forgiveness afforded me from God. For those moments, I breathe deep, deep breaths and wrestle with my emotions and natural inclinations like Jacob wrestled with the angel. Like Jacob, I don’t let go until my emotions and natural inclinations relent and the peace I am fighting for seeps slowly into my soul. Then, I breathe deep, deep breaths again. I whisper inaudible, groaning prayers that are sometimes only the name of Jesus followed by help me. When at last hope overtakes the storm, and I should feel relief, I feel grief and shame.
Until I look into the eyes of my teenagers.
Although neither of them is certain about God, still they are a measure of His hope; they are my portion from Him. They let me know I can try again. They let me know all is not lost. These two young women give voice to the unspoken words I long to hear from God when they tell me it’s okay and they forgive me and we will face the things before us together, as we always do. And I will have yet another opportunity to embody and embrace and also reflect the peace they need. With my hand firmly in God’s, I will have yet another chance to be the anchor of hope because He is mine.