At Arms Length

Mimi,

This was recently published in an e-newsletter, but I thought I’d blog it because what the Lord taught me is worth repeating. The big idea, as James Taylor has sung: shower the people you love with love…

     I climbed up the fence, and with my stomach impaled on the chain-link and hands cupped around my mouth, I screamed as loud as I could. My jugular was bulging, my brow was furrowed, and my saliva was flying. I was watching a track meet under the lights, my sister was running- she blazed the mile. I had walked around to the back stretch before the race, where I knew my cheering would be heard. I watched her run the way some men watch football, I was insane about it.

     Twenty years later, my prayer life became a bit like a spectator sport. My quite time with the Lord mostly occurs in darkness, under the lights, before anyone wakes, because I can hear my own voice. And that image, of yelling my heart out, came to mind as I screamed at God. Mind you, this was all in silent prayer, I was as quiet as my son in mischief, lest I have two little prayer warriors at my side.

     Why all the passion? It was my mother-in-law’s cancer I wailed about.

     It took me eleven months to arrive at that crazy-prayer stage. At first, the news was doom-and-gloom followed by out of this world peace and strength. Then, there were the good months of angst reprieve, amazing vacations, and quality family time. But even while basking in the sun, there was a rather gloomy side of my heart. There was an inclination to buffer myself and to guard my kids, to hold Grammy at arms length.  

     The relationship I have had with my husband’s mom for the past twelve years has been one to be envied. She’s a hall-of-faither. My dark side wanted to consider, just for a moment, backing off. Maybe call less, avoid the C-word, send fewer happy texts, all with the justification that somehow being less involved in her life would prevent me from becoming more smitten with her. That, said the Eeyore in me, would make the thought of loosing her somehow bearable. And as for my kids, this delusional plan would protect them by not exposing them. It’s brutal, but real.

     Fortunately, the cruelty of Plan A nixed it. But it makes me wonder who else I am holding out there. Who are you holding at arms length? Perhaps because they are high-maintenance, because they want to talk for twenty minutes when you have one, because their problems quite frankly annoy you? Plan B is certainly not easy; to pour your heart into those you are called to love. But at least I won’t be living in the fear that God himself can’t handle me should I get swallowed up in the sorrow that surrounds death.  Plus, I won’t be teaching my babies to live in a cage rather than trust and all-powerful God.

     See God could have healed her. He’s done it before, I’ve heard of His great deeds. Nothing is impossible. He has healed others, He could have healed her. I believed it as much as I believed my sister would win just about any race she entered.

     But He didn’t. Instead, He took her home. To His credit, God miraculously kept her alive and vibrant far, far longer than any medical estimation. Even so, when she entered the Promise land weeks ago, it was too soon. She’s there and we are here, longing for every aspect of her beautiful self. But there is something else here. After allowing my sensitive heart to love her socks off, God has rewarded me with strength.  I still cry my heart out in prayer, but as I cry out, I fully sense He’s got me covered. The resonating lesson in all of this has been to let my guard down. Let it down in prayer, and let it down when I love others. Letting it down gives God the chance to pick me up. 

Originally published in On The Side, an e-publication of the Christian Medical and Dental Association http://www.cmda.org