When God waits for our crazy to hang out

It has been one of those weeks… When you have this miraculous plan for the week and even day to day. And it’s one big stink fest. Today I found myself saying “Why, God, why??!” as I choked back tears.  It’s been one thing after another and another. It’s Griffin’s birthday week and I had big plans of making each day so special and joyful. But that’s not how it’s played out.

Sick baby ☑️

2 doctors visits and 2 prescriptions to pay for ☑️☑️

Credit card lifted and now waiting for a new one as I need to finish shopping for this weekend ☑️

Acted like a jerk to My husband ☑️

Blogging frustration ☑️

Feeling like a chicken with my head cut off ☑️

I wanted to tell this week to stick it “where the sun don’t shine!”

I went to pick up my son’s prescription for antibiotics and his breathing treatments. On the way home I found myself driving in circles with complete frustration at how the week has played out. We have not been to the zoo. We haven’t been to the park. I didn’t finish a wood project that would be so stinking cute at Griffin’s birthday party. There was no joyful baking of birthday cookies together. I didn’t get my blog posts published correctly or written all the sentimental posts I wanted to share this week.

Quite contrary… There has been a daily boiling over of emotions by my sweet boy AND his crazy mama. I’ve tried to calming him for the third day of toddler meltdowns coupled with sickness.

I sat in my car (Griff at home with Sam napping) and cried in the middle of the Target parking lot… All while strangers eyed the crazy girl with messy hair, no make up, and complete lack of control blubbering like a child who just had her lollipop stolen.

In the midst of my angst, I realized that God is waiting for our melt downs. He’s waiting for us to absolutely lose it. He knows we are headed in that direction before the tears even fall. He knows we feel broken when we are overwhelmed with frustration. He knows we often set expectations in motion only to have them shattered.

He’s waiting because He so badly wants to be there; to hold us close and tell us it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to hurt. He understands being angry, but longs to soothe that emotion with such peace only He can provide. He humbly waits for us to call out to Him when we are finally at that moment of desperation to let Him intervene.

Its easy to trust and consult God when our best laid plans actually fall as we wish. It’s endearing to seek a goal and have it mold like clay in our hands only to quickly tell God “thank you for all He’s done.”

But how intimate is that? How do the easy moments create a relationship with Christ that is overwhelmingly absolute, all-encompassing, self-releasing, grace giving, merciful, and fulfilled only by Christ? The answer is… They don’t.

The moments that teach us to draw near to our Creator for a more meaningful relationship are ones that push us to the limit, sometimes break our hearts, and often bring out the worst in us. It’s the weeks when nothing goes according to our plan. We are so clearly loved by Jesus on the days we throw our hands in the air and shout “What next?!” Even if you don’t feel God right in those moments, it’s His actions and love that pull us out. It’s His humbling compassion that reminds us of all the blessings we do have. It’s His patience that lets us take our misfortune out on Him that we later regret. It’s His faithful persistence that brings better days, but also comfort and strength in the valleys.

I’d love to tell you that my attitude changed in the Target parking lot. I’d be overjoyed to share how I showed kindness and grace to my family when they deserved it. I’d be thrilled say I immediately stopped and showed gratitude to God for all He’s done. But I didn’t. I sulked, pouted, and ranted over why x, y, and z happened this week. I stayed angry, ungrateful, and self-consumed.

It wasn’t until I rocked my child to sleep tonight that I dropped my guard and let God hold my heart. I sang lullabies and told my precious little boy: “It’s okay to have bad days. Tomorrow starts fresh. But in the mean time, I’ll always love you and care for you. I’ll always be here to comfort you and help you ease the day away.”

It was that moment when the frustration eased, the anger melted, and joy, peace, and comfort flooded my soul. I felt God’s whisper in my own ear: “Candace, me too, child. Me, too!”