The Disappointments of Life

I was listening to Laura Story's new song as I was driving back home from the nursing home, weary after another long and seemingly unfruitful day.  As I drove up the road, the mountains loomed bigger and bigger in front of me, and I thought how much more each day feels like climbing the mountain, only to go back down and do it again, again never seeming to get any further down the road of life. 


And then the song came on.  What if my greatest disappointments were the greatest blessings in my life?  What if my own plans and dreams were not the best for me, and God had created a thousand detours along the way, to bring me to this place, this time, new plans not my own, new dreams not my own?  What if what God had planned for my life was bigger than anything I could imagine or dream? 


And I thought about those plans, thwarted in their place, and the diverse paths I have walked, either because of my own stubbornness or my own selfishness. 


I was a girl like any other.  Dreams of horses, then parties, then going to college, white picket fences with a house full of children and a loving husband.  I was no different than most girls, but my life took turns that didn't coincide with any of my dreams, try as hard as I might to achieve them.  Horses and parties took a back seat to wanting to go to college, and college took a back seat to survival, and white picket fenced houses took a back seat to putting a roof over my head. The children came, but the husbands left. And yet I still struggled to keep the path toward my own dreams and goals, never considering what God might want in my life.  In the end, all these set aside dreams took back place to something bigger. 


During the time of the "setting asides" my heart was breaking.  I wondered what I had done wrong, where did I go wrong, and then I would try to fix it, so I could get back on track.  That only led me further down the path of disappointment and discontent.  I remember one day driving down the road, weary, feeling lost, after yet another loss in my life, and crying out to God, and telling Him, "I can't do this anymore. You have to help me!"


And that was the biggest turning point in my life.  Not that life got any easier, but I got easier.  I became more content with what I had in my life, and less desiring of the things of life.  I developed a hunger to know this God who had so many times spared me from my own consequences, and who now was setting me on a different path.  I began to share that path with my children, my friends, and anyone who came near me. 


One of the biggest disappointments in my life had been the fact that although I had married three times, I could not sustain the marriages, and I could not figure out why.  After the last disappointment in this, I took a long hard look at myself.  Yes, the men I was with were all abusive, neglectful or unfaithful in their own ways, however there was one factor, one common factor in all the relationships, and that factor was me.  Somehow I had this vision in my head, this dream, like I was Cinderella and it was supposed to be my lot in life to suffer, but that in the end, the Prince would come.  And every time, my Prince turned out to be a toad. During those times, I was so lonely, so hungry to be loved and accepted, that I would have done anything to get what I wanted.  


But on that day, crying out to God, I gave it all up to Him.  If He wanted me married, he would bring a man into my life, by some miracle, as He usually does things, and if He didn't then I would have to accept that.  The picket fence dream would have to die. It took months, even years, of giving this back to Him.


And one day I realized that I had missed the entire point of the picket fence ordeal.  My Prince had come.  He had walked with me through all of my disappointments, my failures, my trials.  He had never abandoned me to my own mess, but had carefully stepped in to ensure my survival through whatever mess I had gotten myself into.  All of the loneliness I had endured, the abandonment by my father and my husbands, the disappointment and hurt I felt during those times, were His blessings in disguise.  For in losing all I had, I found who I was, but more importantly, I found who my Prince was.  And He has never disappointed me. 
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

Bless me Father for I have sinned... (Or the difference between earthly fathers and God)

Where I grew up the main denomination was Catholicism  I even went, by accident, to catechism one day.  One of  my friends explained the basics to me, about confession. Which was the first time I ever heard "Bless me father, for I have sinned."  In my mind, this seemed like an invitation for a beating.  I can tell you that if I had ever confessed anything to my father, he would have blessed me with one of his customary forms of punishment,which were not pretty to say the least.  My brother used to bow his head and lower his eyes when my dad approached with "that look" on his face.  And then he would mutter under his breath, "Let the beatings commence."  We learned that the best way to deal with confessing anything to our father, was to deny all wrongdoing, hide the evidence, and if all else failed, be absent when he got home.  His "practical judgment" as we called it, produced at least four children who could lie to the Pope or the President and be believable. 


The sad thing about this was that it drove most of my family as far away from God as they could possibly get.  The concept of a heavenly father who could see everything you did, knew every thought, had more power than we could imagine, was just too dangerous a concept, considering the earthly father we knew. And I can understand the reasoning behind it.  Who would want an all powerful, all-seeing, all-knowing father, especially if he were like the one we currently had? 


Recently I sat with my father in the nursing home while he cried and confessed once again to me how sorry he is that he failed his children. The beauty in his tears is the confession of a heart that is reconciled to his sin, and accepting that God is a loving,caring father, who has forgiven him, and accepts him. This is the one absolutely awesome thing that I learned from my father, even though late in my life and his. Our Heavenly Father is not at all like our earthly father. Yes, He is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing.  But He is also all-loving and all-forgiving, if we just come to Him and ask him to bless us with that love.


It would have been a comfort when I was younger to come to my dad and be able to confess everything.  But,eventually, I learned that I can come to God. With Him there is no lie He does not know, no evidence He has not seen, and yet, He still accepts me.  Even though there are often consequences for my sin, He is with me, carrying me through all of them. And in this, now I understand what it means to be blessed.     
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

The Soil of Adversity

I decided I would try to grow some tomatoes on my patio, went out and bought pots, plants, soil, and all the other appropriate things that are required to grow tomatoes.  I also bought some houseplants, a diffenbachia and one of those vine things.  In spite of my history as a plant killer, I have decided that all it takes is practice.  I read the instructions, did everything I was supposed to do.  Now it appears I may have had some oversights in my ability to grow stuff. Again.  The diffenbachia was promptly eaten by my cat, who threw up the remnants on my rug, the vine thing put out some little tendrils then decided it didn't like me, and curled up into little brown leaves.  The tomatoes however, seem to be growing well.  In spite of the instructions, I did my own thing with them. The instructions clearly state "Plant in full sun."  But I noticed that they were shipped from some place other than the desert, and adjusted the sun requirements accordingly.  Full sun in Tucson, Arizona means instant incineration, even in March.  So I planted them in the shade.  Seems to be working.

While I was watering them this morning, I thought about my own planting.  I mean that where I am, is not where I ever intended to be (In the desert instead of the mountains) and what I planned for my life, is nothing that I had envisioned.  God decided a long time ago, that I needed some adversity in my life.  Or that is what I am assuming, since that seems to be what I have encountered every step of the way since I have been here.

My general physical qualities don't match anything that should be in the desert.  My dermatologist looked at me once and said "What on earth are you doing here?"  Meaning that Redheads don't belong in full sun, they require grassy slopes, water, and shade.  Somehow I seem to have overcome the heat, even though I have to spend most of my time indoors between March and November, or only venture out with the night creatures and those crepusucular animals like bats and rabbits.

But what amazes me most is the spiritual soil I have been planted in.  And not just myself, but most of my friends.  Life has not been easy in this town as a single parent, as a single adult, as a single christian.  Tucson does not lend itself to those with limited income, and it usually takes two incomes to survive, and yet, I have thrived, as have my children.  I have struggled, but more often than not there have been miracles worked on my behalf that let me know without a doubt, that God planted me here, and He intended for me to thrive.

Most Tucson families are couples, who both work, and leave their children home to their own devices.  Somehow I managed to get by on one income, and spend time with my children, and with the children of those who decided that income was more important than spending time with those children. Somehow the garden of my little hovel became a shelter for those who had none.  Somehow they seem to have thrived also.  In spite of adversity in our lives, God intends for us to prosper, in all ways.


I don' think that He made any particular plans to make me miserable so that I would comply with His requests.  But I do know He made plans for my dealing with the heat, and the loneliness I would go through as a single parent, even down to the last little frustration.  He made a way in the desert for me and my family.  He brought me here a single person, and created a tribe.  And all of it was done in the soil of adversity.

Do I ever wish things had been or will be easier?  Of course!  I am only human, wanting all the things that other humans want, with perhaps a little more sunscreen than most.  But when I settled back and began to actually follow the Leader so to speak, things did get easier.  Not that the soil had changed, but I had learned to adapt, or as Paul the Apostle put it, I learned to be content in all things.

Are you a diffenbachia in the hands of a plant lunatic?  Or are you a tomato on God's patio?
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

The Little Things

I am always amazed by the things God does.  From the colors He paints in the sky and earth, the birth of babies and the animals He has created, all are so intricately designed that I am caught up in the wonder of it all.  However, rarely do I think about how He plans even the smallest things, and how they bless our lives. 

This year has been particularly hard for everyone.  I have not been excluded from that list.  Even though I am retired, I find that between working part time, running to the nursing home on a daily basis to take care of Dad’s needs, and taking care of my own needs and those of my family, I cannot seem to find enough time or energy to finish everything I have to do.  Add to that the deaths of some very special people in my life, and this last two weeks, the severe illness of my brother and the need for a trip to Colorado to sit at his bedside, and you have the recipe for a human meltdown. 

When I got home from Colorado last Monday, I felt like I had been run over by a semi-truck.  Tuesday was a little better, maybe just a run-over by a Volkswagen Bus.  Wednesday was a definite improvement, just a VW bug, but then the reality of everything began to hit home, and I felt overwhelmed by all that had to be done, and my lack of energy to do it.  Laundry for Dad and his never-ending shopping list, plus his “quality time” which consists of sitting with him, no matter what, and all the other things he has requested, sometimes makes me feel frustrated and lacking in ability.  One of those things included making a curtain for a cabinet that my son was “requested” to make for him, was on my long list of to-do, and the thought of having to finish this left me almost not caring enough to do anything.  By the way, if you haven’t noticed from the preceding paragraph, Dad is mostly a very demanding person.  He still hasn’t gotten over being a Marine Sergeant, even though it has been some 65 years since he last was one.  It appears sometimes that I was born to be one of his “grunts.”

I can’t get around to everything, and last week, on top of my grief and exhausted state, I had reached the “I don’t care anymore” mode.  Then, I received a call from my son and daughter-in-law.  He had finished the cabinet for my dad, and had sent me pictures of it.  I was not really enthusiastic about looking at them, for all I could think of was that I now had to dig out the sewing machine, go to the store to find the right fabric (which Dad is very particular about) and then measure, cut, sew and install the thing. 

When I opened the picture, I was amazed.  There, in front of my eyes, was the cabinet, finished, WITH THE CURTAIN INSTALLED IN THE APPROPRIATE FABRIC, PERFECTLY FITTED!  

I nearly cried.  I asked Amy if she had made the curtain, and she said she hadn’t.  It seems that some “pillow cases” that my other daughter-in-law had asked Amy to hold for her 5 years ago when they were moving from their first house turned up a year ago.  Amy had diligently held on to them, until last year, when she asked Judy if she wanted them back.  Amy was holding yard sales to get rid of stuff, and Judy told her just to keep them to sell.  Which Amy thought she had done.  However, last week, while going through things, she found them and took them to her sister, who she thought might need some pillowcases.  When her sister opened them up, she found that they were not pillowcases after all. It was one curtain.  Only one-half of a set.  Amy took it home, and later wondered if it would fit the cabinet.  To her amazement, it fit perfectly, even though the cabinet opening is not a standard size.

Here is where the minor miracle became apparent.  God had foreseen, 5 YEARS AGO, that I was going to be in a terrible state this last week.  He had carefully hidden that curtain away, so it would not be given away or sold.  He knew exactly when I would need something to give me encouragement, He knew just what it would be down to color, texture and size, and He knew just whose hands to put it in.

God has planned for the needs and wants we will have in our lives, down to the minutest of things.  Of course, He does great sunsets, fantastic wonders in the earth, and amazing big things, but He also does curtains.  
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

Moments of Love.

The Colorado Prairie where I grew up

I spent last week at the bedside in Intensive Care of my oldest best friend, my brother, John.  I was expecting the worst, since the doctors held little hope for his recovery, and hoping for the best, believing that somehow his life would not be cut short.  It was a long, very tiring week. 

On one of those days, I left to take a break.  I just needed some air, some sunlight, some place else to gather my strength.  So, after so many hours of waiting, I took a drive out on our old farm road.  This is something I do whenever I am back home, just to see how things have changed, and what remains.  Our old farmhouse is long gone, but there is still so much left to remember.  There are landmarks there to remind me where things were before I left home and Colorado.  As I drove, I looked at these landmarks, drove past our old farm that is now divided up into several different lots, and on past the old farming community out into the open prairie.  Memories of my brother and I running up and down the gullies, out on the hills, down the riverbed welled up in my thoughts like a flood.  I could see us again as children, building forts, sharing secrets no one else would ever know, and experiencing the wonders of this blessed place.  

On the return trip to the hospital, I passed it all again, remembering all those things, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with a sense of the love that God had for me back in those days.  I thought about the Grandfather that God had placed in my life, whose character was like a very fine old piece of furniture, carefully thought out, and lovingly assembled to last for centuries.  I never knew back then what an impact he would have upon my life.  I thought about my brother John, whose paths crossed mine when we both lost our parents and ended up brother and sister, best friends and protectors of each other.  And I thought about the corn rows, where I first met God, the river where I first walked with God, and the journey I have taken since I was first put in this place.  I was overwhelmed with emotion by it all, so much so, that I had to pull to the side of the road and stop driving. 

I felt so much love in that moment, in just the knowing that God loves me, in spite of all my bumps and bruises; in spite of all of my failures and sins.  Knowing He loved me enough to put me in that place, with those people, at just the right time, all for my good, filled my heart with such love for Him, that I cannot even describe it.  As I spoke those words of love to Him, my heart was filled with the most unspeakable joy that I have ever experienced.  Tears washed my face, but this time, not in sorrow or fear, but for love of the God who so carefully planned my life. 

After I had composed myself somewhat, I returned to the hospital to again, take up the vigil at my brother’s bedside.  I was met with the most unexpected surprise.  As I walked in the room, he opened his eyes and looked right at me.  Then he raised his foot, to signify he was kicking me out.  I told him I loved him, and he shook his head “No”.  The nurse, shocked by this response, asked me why.  I told her that John does not like me telling him that I love him, because he thinks it is too “mushy.”  She looked at him and asked him, “Is that true?  Do you not like your sister Susan telling you that she loves you?”  He nodded yes, and then she asked, “But do you love your sister?”  And he nodded “Yes.”  It might not seem like much to some, but to the two of us, it is everything.  He knew I was there, and he acknowledged it in the best way that both of us would fully understand. 

 

I do not find it unusual that just after I acknowledged my love for God, my brother would awake from a coma to greet me.  God is like that.  He shows His love with the most indescribable gifts.  For me that day, it was the gift of seeing my brother and sharing a moment between just the two of us, one more time.  

Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

My brother John and I.  We are the little ones making faces.