The Peak of Inspiration

We, that is, my wife and I, are parents to a little person that struggles with separation anxiety.  You may remember me mentioning it previously.  For a while we thought we were through that phase, but recently it has surfaced again.  I guess there are a few lessons for me to learn yet.  And the more I consider this, the more parallels I find in my grown-up heart. 

Anxiety attacks can be a little unpredictable.  It has been a challenge for us to identify the triggers, or even if there are triggers.  I wish I could tell you that I understood everything better than I did a year ago, but I can’t.  Despite untold hours of research, thousands of books professing to understand, and technology that can blow your mind away, I don’t think we will ever completely unlock the language of the heart.  In a way, a hope we don’t.  I like the mystery of it.

Back to the point…  Even though we haven’t discovered the cause, we have found a thing or two that helps.  Not a cure, just an antidote of sorts to keep the demons at bay.  Just a little something to serve as a reminder that things will not always be this way.  That this separation is not permanent, that this distance between us will not last long.  And so we give him this little something.  What it is doesn’t really matter.  But it is small enough for him to put in his pocket.  He keeps it there, and when things get a little lonely, and the realization hits home that his parents are not where he is, he can tuck his hand in his pocket, and remember. 

From my perspective as a father, I could argue that his anxiety is inexcusable.  I would never intentionally leave him in a situation that could harm him.  Along with his siblings, all my energy and time are spent endeavoring to secure a good life for him.  My desire for their well-being gets me up in the morning and is the reason I sleep well at night.  But I also know that for him to learn what he needs to, there will be seasons of his life that he will need to be away from us, in a different environment.  That he will need to learn a reliance on, and a respect for, others.  I know he would be crippled, somehow, if he were to spend his entire life with my constant and close presence.  And so, with his eventual success as my north star, I submit him to these lonely situations and wait for the day when separations are passed.

It would be nice if we could always feel our Father’s presence.  Often we do.  I know that you know what that is like.  But, unfortunately, there are times when we can sense a distance.  I think we understand, at least in our brain, that he knows what we need and he has only good in mind.  But that vision starts to fade when you find yourself alone and in a strange place.  When the walls close in and the only noises you can hear are from unfamiliar voices.  When the glimpses you can catch of your father seem to be of his back, walking away. 

Believe it or not, feel it or not, your Father knew you would come to this place.  Sadly, there is no cure.  We live after the fall, and with the curse.

But all is not hopeless.  That same Father has left you with a gift, a little reminder.  It is not much, but it is enough.  Enough to draw your attention back to his love.  Enough to quell the rising anxiety and focus your heart.  Small enough to take with you, handy enough to reach for at any moment.  What it is doesn’t matter.  What matters is that it reminds you of him, your Father, and his constant and unwavering care for you. 

I can’t speak for you.  That’s your job.  But I can tell you I have had a thousand reminders given to me.  I don’t always want to believe what they are telling me, but that doesn’t diminish their message.  A phrase in song, praying hands on my phone screen, a dinner invitation, a gift certificate, a honk as someone drives by.  Folks, these things are not just circumstance, not coincidence.  They are not to be taken for granted.  They are reminders.  Reminders that you are not alone. 

You will not always feel close to God.  I think that is part of his plan.  Some lessons must be learned like that.  But I do believe He will always leave you with a reminder.  And in those lonely times…

Don’t let go.