Comfort Food for the Soul

Ingredient #1:  Hope

That’s where it all begins: with Hope.  Hopes and dreams and soaring expectations of living happily ever after.  Hope for a soul-mate who will always cherish and whose affections will never waiver.  Who will whole-heartedly nurture the children, and will thank God for the blessing of family.  Dreams of children who grow up to become responsible young adults, and who love the Lord with all their heart.  Who will honor and respect the ones who raised them.  Fully expecting that life will include financial stability, successful career, dynamic ministries, strong health, faithful friends, supportive family.

Hopes, however, have a way of not turning out exactly as expected. Somewhere in the process they can be broken, crushed, and scrambled, until they take on a different form altogether.  Barely recognizable as the dreams they once were.  Hopes fail.

Nothing

Long, long ago, long before I was born, He was writing my story.  Writing each page with precision, wisdom and passion.  It was a beautiful biography, a grand adventure, one that would include a damsel in distress, a valiant hero, a daring rescue.  And eventually, although it has not yet happened, it will include a “happily ever after.” It is ironic, therefore, that my testimony, the theme of my story, can be summarized in one unlikely word: “Nothing.”

Defeated

Today’s path has been long, steep, and treacherous.   Discouragement, my archenemy, has crouched behind every bend, attacking without warning, releasing a barrage of deadly arrows that have severely wounded. I lay my head down, bruised and bleeding, out of breath from running.  Weariness from the unrelenting battle drives away all thought except rest.  Please, please, let there be a reprieve this night.

But no.  The crushing Despair, that hostile foe who is determined to destroy, continues to pursue, refusing to back down.  In the loud stillness of the night, it senses that this warrior is weakened, and seizes the opportunity to advance.  Accusing, mocking, belittling. 

I know my opponent is close.  I can feel the cold breath on my neck and smell its stench.  Always near, always ready to ambush.  I am terrified that I will lose the battle this time.  That Distress is too powerful of an adversary for me to overcome.  It is so tempting to surrender.  To just give up.  To be defeated.

Broken Promises

She used to be fun.  Every time I would see her, she would have recently had an adventure with her kids, or was eagerly planning the next one.  The local zoo, the children’s museum, the nearby farm, the water park.  Her scrapbooks were full of her kids’ sporting events, dance recitals, school plays, and birthday parties.  She was the mother everyone wishes they could be.

Not anymore.  The joy is gone.  Now she is in a dark, oppressive, terrifying place.  It’s as if she has been tossed into the bottom of a deep hole, with no way of ever emerging.  No hope of ever seeing daylight again.  Now it takes every ounce of effort just to get out of bed each morning.  She struggles through the days, counting the hours until her husband gets home from work and can take over the simple routines and responsibilities that, for her, have become insurmountable and nearly impossible.

She sits next to me in the kitchen, a mere shadow of the woman she used to be.  “I can’t,” she cries, the tears streaming down her pale face.  “I can’t accept that this is God’s plan for me.  Why is He allowing this to happen?  Why does He hate me?”

A Quest for Peace

Before the eyes even open, it’s there.  Lingering, menacing, its approaching darkness threateningly close.  It’s a storm cloud that descends without warning, casting a dark gloominess across the day ahead.  Hope’s radiance may be struggling to shine through, but it is completely hidden in the shadows.

This ominous cloud may be Regret.  It is heavy with the tremendous weight of guilt, taunting its reminders of past decisions.  Roads that seemed innocuous and safe in the beginning, but with every step, every twist and turn, have long since led to a place of unintended consequences.  There is no going back.  That time can never be redeemed, and Regret is ever present, mocking and ridiculing the foolishness of yesterday.

Perhaps the foreboding cloud is Fear.  Facing an unknown future, feeling thoroughly unprepared and ill equipped.  This frightening cloud warns of impending storms, a deluge that threatens to consume, causing horrendous damage and destruction. What if the imagination’s worst nightmare indeed happens?  What about that possible scenario?  How will the heart be able to bear it?  The anxiety of such thoughts can be paralyzing.

Sometimes the cloud is simply Weariness.  The difficult circumstances of yesterday remain here today.  The battles that were fought so valiantly at the beginning have now become overwhelming and futile.  What’s the use of continuing the fight when nothing ever seems to change?  Not the slightest sign of victory is in sight.

The thoughts, the thoughts, the thoughts.  Like frightened rabbits, they bound across the meadow of the mind, first darting one way before turning suddenly and dashing in a completely different direction. They continue to scurry, frantically racing and whirling.  Never resting.  Will peace, that elusive tranquility and contentment so earnestly sought, ever be found?