I realized a day or two ago that I’m often tempted to treat God like I treat the Michigan weather…which is to say, “Not all that trustworthy.”
A few weeks ago, it snowed heavy, heavy snow.
Then, a few days later, we had a warm weather spell, which means my heaviest sweaters were retired, and my medium-heavy sweaters saw the light of day (my light and medium-light sweaters are reserved for the summer and the plague that is too-cold air conditioning).
Today, again, it is quite cold and quite windy. This, mi amigos, is Michigan weather–super unpredictable and not often in your favor.
I’ve realized, though, that I can treat God like I treat the weather. “Meh,” I might say, “Enjoy it while you can…”
With the ominous understanding that things probably won’t stay very good for very long.
This is stupid. I talked about it with some friends on Wednesday; one of them was like, “I think it’s because…I’ve been disappointed before.”
I mean, of course, right? Of course we have been disappointed.
But, sometimes, other times, we have also been blow away by the wonder and goodness God gives us.
I was thinking today about the mountains and valleys I’ve known thus far (twenty-eight years WHAT). The highs prepared me for later highs. And, similarly, the lows prepared me for later lows. All of these molded me…hopefully, into a better, more well-rounded woman.
I laid in bed today, under my fuzzy blankets (I keep them year-round, because I’m a very cold sleeper, my sister-in-law once napped in my bed in the warmth of July and emerged like, “You have fuzzy-sheets on your bed–WHY?”). It’s cold again, today, even though it was warm yesterday. I wore my boots, my warmest fur vest, my woolen scarf when I ran my errands.
This past year I tried pretty dang hard to follow God’s often-subtle leads. But, I ended up hitting a bunch of dead ends. Or, I guess I could say, they hit me. Hard. Smack-across-the-face. Why? Why did that happen? Did I listen wrong?
In the same way–why is still cold? I want it to be warm, just like I want the sweet consolations of da Lord.
But, in the words of my favorite scallywag-priest (cough Father Ryan cough): “Instead of seeking the consolations of God, why don’t you focus on the God of consolation.”
Le sigh. Okay, fine.
I’ll admit: I don’t understand God, just like I don’t understand the weather. I don’t understand His timing or these winding paths of life. But, I still hope that spring will come. I do believe it will. So, I keep trusting. Fuzzy-blanket on!