Like a Weaned Child
Long ago, when my mother was still alive, we were sitting at my kitchen table.
I was railing on about some incongruency of life, where the faith she had instilled in me and my experience did not match. I wasn’t able to make sense of life.
She responded with a smile, “This, too, is in God’s hands,” she said—her typical disposition when life presented chaos.
Working in trauma healing, I bore witness to much more extreme dissonance than I had ever experienced.
A young woman brutally raped while going to her field to get food. She had been careful and prayed for God’s protection.
A young girl molested by a ‘friendly’ neighbor. She kept it secret for years, her body and emotions bearing constant witness, but it burst out as soon as she had someone safe to tell--me, for example.
A pastor runs for his life to escape rebel attacks. His diabetic sister cannot come with him. She dies. No possibility of a funeral. Years later on the other side of the continent, his first opportunity to grieve. His hands held behind his head, head bowed, his doleful mourning dance, his dirge piercing the night.
My chaos seems orderly by comparison but my African colleagues treat it with equal attention. All pain is sacred.
The Bible tells of Job, who, unlike his friends, had the courage to speak the truth when his world was turned upside down. Job, who railed at God and asked the hard questions when his experience did not match his beliefs. And he got answers! “There are things too wonderful for me to know,” Job said.
King David said the same thing. After struggling with things beyond his level, he calmed and quieted himself like a weaned child with its mother, content, realizing there are things too wonderful to understand (Psalm 131).
And with this realization comes humility, understanding we are not in control. And our lives can be filled with a new kind of beauty—expansive, relaxed, grateful.
My mom figured that out.
Long ago, when my mother was still alive, we were sitting at my kitchen table.
I was railing on about some incongruency of life, where the faith she had instilled in me and my experience did not match. I wasn’t able to make sense of life.
She responded with a smile, “This, too, is in God’s hands,” she said—her typical disposition when life presented chaos.
Working in trauma healing, I bore witness to much more extreme dissonance than I had ever experienced.
A young woman brutally raped while going to her field to get food. She had been careful and prayed for God’s protection.
A young girl molested by a ‘friendly’ neighbor. She kept it secret for years, her body and emotions bearing constant witness, but it burst out as soon as she had someone safe to tell--me, for example.
A pastor runs for his life to escape rebel attacks. His diabetic sister cannot come with him. She dies. No possibility of a funeral. Years later on the other side of the continent, his first opportunity to grieve. His hands held behind his head, head bowed, his doleful mourning dance, his dirge piercing the night.
My chaos seems orderly by comparison but my African colleagues treat it with equal attention. All pain is sacred.
The Bible tells of Job, who, unlike his friends, had the courage to speak the truth when his world was turned upside down. Job, who railed at God and asked the hard questions when his experience did not match his beliefs. And he got answers! “There are things too wonderful for me to know,” Job said.
King David said the same thing. After struggling with things beyond his level, he calmed and quieted himself like a weaned child with its mother, content, realizing there are things too wonderful to understand (Psalm 131).
And with this realization comes humility, understanding we are not in control. And our lives can be filled with a new kind of beauty—expansive, relaxed, grateful.
My mom figured that out.
Long ago, when my mother was still alive, we were sitting at my kitchen table.
I was railing on about some incongruency of life, where the faith she had instilled in me and my experience did not match. I wasn’t able to make sense of life.
She responded with a smile, “This, too, is in God’s hands,” she said—her typical disposition when life presented chaos.
Working in trauma healing, I bore witness to much more extreme dissonance than I had ever experienced.
A young woman brutally raped while going to her field to get food. She had been careful and prayed for God’s protection.
A young girl molested by a ‘friendly’ neighbor. She kept it secret for years, her body and emotions bearing constant witness, but it burst out as soon as she had someone safe to tell--me, for example.
A pastor runs for his life to escape rebel attacks. His diabetic sister cannot come with him. She dies. No possibility of a funeral. Years later on the other side of the continent, his first opportunity to grieve. His hands held behind his head, head bowed, his doleful mourning dance, his dirge piercing the night.
My chaos seems orderly by comparison but my African colleagues treat it with equal attention. All pain is sacred.
The Bible tells of Job, who, unlike his friends, had the courage to speak the truth when his world was turned upside down. Job, who railed at God and asked the hard questions when his experience did not match his beliefs. And he got answers! “There are things too wonderful for me to know,” Job said.
King David said the same thing. After struggling with things beyond his level, he calmed and quieted himself like a weaned child with its mother, content, realizing there are things too wonderful to understand (Psalm 131).
And with this realization comes humility, understanding we are not in control. And our lives can be filled with a new kind of beauty—expansive, relaxed, grateful.
My mom figured that out.
11 x 15” gouache and oil on canvas. Framed size, 17 x 21”.