It had been an exciting day, and I had my evening all planned out. I was going to research a few things on the internet, take a hot shower, eat a nice leisurely snack while reading the newspaper, and go to bed early or on time (a novelty these days). And then the power went out.
I was ticked. Power is a first world luxury, but I wanted it, needed it. I felt angry about having to walk around the house use my cell phone as a flash light. (I was blessed the phone was charged.) I felt disgruntled that I couldn't use internet. I wanted light for my shower. I felt I deserved my routine after the busyness of the day. I felt I needed that nightly set of habits to be safe. In my anger and frustration, I even prayed for the power to come back on. It didn't.
I obsessively checked the power outage map on my cell phone. It said power restoration at 12:24 am, but would update every five minutes. I checked every five minutes, or less. No changes. I debated not taking a shower, but decided against it. I needed a shower, even if it wasn't how I wanted it. The Spirit convicted me that I was looking to earthly things for comfort when God was my comfort. Things therefore, weren't going to change.
So I took my shower, got my snack, and started trying to read the newspaper by hurricane lamp. I put my phone away. I didn't finish my internet research. Finally, I got to a place where I was almost content. And then right before I went to bed, the power came back on. That was a blessing, as I rely on a box fan for white noise, and I needed power for that. But to be honest, I was a bit miffed. I lost "my evening" for the power outage, and now I really needed to go to bed. So I tried to cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving and gratitude and go to sleep.
I think I'm seeking the Lord, walking in His ways, and relying on Him, and then little things show me I'm not. Oh, how I need the grace of God, every hour, every minute, every breath. He's my Power Source.
For me, Lent is a time to refocus and re-prioritize. People traditionally fast from food during Lent, and that was the second part of my fast. (Read about Part 1 here.) I chose to fast from cereal, as that was something I tended to overdo.
Food is a form of self-care. Eating highly palatable foods for comfort is a choice. The problem was that I was mindlessly eating cereal and not finding it fulfilling.
So I took Lent to focus on other food choices. I went back to chocolate bowl cakes (based on this recipe) and peanuts and raisins and hot cocoa. Sometimes they satisfied and I didn't think about cereal, and sometimes they didn't and all I wanted to do was pull down the cereal box and fill my bowl. But I didn't.
I bought special cereal for Easter: chocolate peanut butter Cheerios!
I expected these Cheerios to be amazing, but they weren't. Don't get me wrong, the cereal is decent, but not as rich and satisfying as I'd hoped. (I have something against the way that peanut butter tastes when it bakes. It's a hold over from my dislike of peanut butter for the first 21 years of my life.) My mom likes the Cheerios and I'm mixing them with things, so they'll get eaten, just maybe not as quickly.
I'm a little disappointed that my return to cereal hasn't been as satisfying as I hoped, but that's part of the point of Lent. Food isn't designed to give ultimate satisfaction. It's a good gift from God, but only He ultimately satisfies.
Hereby ends my series of reflections on Lent. Anyone else have Lenten experiences they want to share?
A pastor recently preached a sermon on Isaiah 40:27-31 at church. He talked about how God sees us in our hard times. He stated that God might have us in a season of discomfort because that's where he wants us so that he can accomplish His purposes. That comment really resonated with me. I don't want to be where I am, but this is where God has me.
This season of life is uncomfortable. I want a lot of things right now that I don't have. I want to be married and have a family of my own, even if it doesn't include kids. I want better health. I want less stress about my job, and a predictable schedule. I want to do well at my work and still have enough energy to have a social life, and more. These are all good things in theory, but yet Psalm 34:10 says, "Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing" (New International Version). I see now that the house I wanted to buy wasn't good for me. I really need my parents. But these other things? I don't know why I don't have them, other than that they must not be good for me right now.
In Psalm 16:6, David writes, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." Regardless of how uncomfortable I am right now, I know that I have an eternal home in heaven. I know that I have a forever support in the indwelling Holy Spirit. I know that I can endure all things through Christ's strength (Phil 4:13). I can't discount the hard in life, but maybe I need a different perspective. Maybe I need the perspective that God has me here to learn, that this season is good for me. Maybe I need to start looking for God's comfort, rather than worldly comfort. I know I need to complain less and celebrate God's provision more. If I lack no good things, that means I have good things in this uncomfortable season, and I need to start looking for them.
I'm linking up with Amanda at Running with Spoons for this Thinking Out Loud post.
Some of you may have noticed the shark in my last afghan post, so I thought I'd tell his story. I selected sharkie from a collection of objects at a work training. I got to the table late, and there wasn't much left, so I took him. I figured there would be some "object lesson"attached to the object, so I tried to think of one that would go with him. To be honest, I didn't like his gray color, or his big eyes, or his teeth. I didn't like that fact that he belonged to a group of animals thought of as predators.
But as the day went on, and the training got long, I held onto sharkie. I squeezed him and petted his soft fur and played with his tag. At some point, there were questions about our objects, but I don't really remember them. I just know that by the time I got home, sharkie had become a comfort object.
What's a comfort object? It's an object that has emotional value, a transitional object that eases security. How items become comfort objects is unknown, different for every person, but they work. Children have them, and guess what? Adults do, too.
Sharkie became a comfort object because he soothed my anxiety during a long work training in which I needed to be still and quiet, but wanted to be anything but. When I got home, I left Sharkie out on my desk in the open, because I wanted to remember the calm he brought me. Sharkie is still here and every time I think about moving him, I decide not to do so. I may be an adult, but I still gain comfort from inanimate objects.
