Um, thank you?

My husband started his prayer over our meal last night, "Dear Lord, thank You for today..." and from that point on, I didn't hear another word he said. I was lost in my own mind questioning, am I Lord, am I thankful for today?

Was I thankful in the moment that I discovered my son was gone and we had no idea where he was? In the pit of my stomach, I knew he had run away, but I had no idea where or how much of a head start he had on us. I was terrified...

Was I thankful in the moment I saw him on the grounds of the community center, just within shouting range - watching him turn and run from me as fast as he could as soon as he saw me? I could already see he was soaked to the bone as he dashed over the hill. I was panicked...

How about as I climbed through the woods, chasing after him, unable to see more than a few hundred yards, being cut by thorns and thistle that were growing in wild bushes in the midst of all the trees. I screamed his name while I prayed for his safety, prayed for God to bring him back to me, prayed for God to point me in the right direction - all while crushed under the thought that I could never find him in those woods on my own if he wasn't wanting to be found.

I think turning and going back to the community center to call 9-1-1, get people to help me search, telling my mom to stay with the kids - that moment of turning in the opposite direction of where I had seen my son go and walk away - that moment of leaving my son running away from me in the rain - I can't think of a harder moment in my life. I didn't have a phone and I knew I needed help, but going back to the center meant I had to stop looking for him. In that moment all I felt was hopelessness.

Or the moment I answered the questions during my call to 9-1-1 "Yes, he has run away before, but never like this." "Yes, he is on an anti-depressant." "Yes, he could possibly be a danger to himself." I can't even tell you what I was thinking and feeling. But I wasn't thankful.

Or how about when he got out of the police car, dripping wet, pulling away from my embrace and not looking at me, as I choked back the sobs. He was back in my sight, but he wasn't WITH me. That moment broke my heart.

Was I thankful when he was back at home, sitting on our sofa, telling us his plan was to run away...and just keep running until he couldn't run anymore...and then....

No. I wasn't thankful. I was mourning my poor son's spirit: that at 13 years old he is running away from life - with nothing to run to. Just running into the woods - in the rain - with nothing waiting for him on the other side.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 "Be joyful always, pray continuously, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Yes, I am thankful for the part where he was returned to me. I am thankful for the gift of praying over him as he slept in his own bed last night. I am thankful for the strangers who raced across the field to the police car to tell the officers where they saw him running. I am thankful for the stranger, a kind woman who overheard all the commotion, and started driving in her car through the surrounding neighborhoods looking for him. I am thankful for the young man who got us towels to help us dry off while we were finalizing the police report.

In the midst of the panic and terror, there were strangers being the hands of feet of Christ to me. People whose name's I'll never know and I will never see again. But I could not register a feeling of joy - a feeling of hope - a feeling of peace- a feeling of gratitude. In the midst, even though I could see His hand moving, I was in darkness. And this morning, laying again in the darkness, staring and the ceiling and wondering what today will hold, I questioned "Can I be thankful in the journey? Can I be thankful for today?"

We have so little real control over our lives. Over the things and people we care about. In a moment, everything can change. I can read the verses about rejoicing in trials, casting my cares on Him, putting my hope in Him, trusting in Him. But what about the brokenness of this world? What about the brokenness in my son's heart? What about the mother's of missing children who have never returned? What about sorrow of those who have truly lost a child? Where does the Light meet that darkness?

I believe Lord. Help my unbelief.

Desire

I've had so much running through my head it has been hard to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences, but now I feel like I can start to express some of these new insights.

I've had a unique experience lately of being able to compare what I have felt like I was supposed to do with what I actually desire to do. Desire has always seemed like a bad word to me, almost synonymous with sin. Desire is that longing inside you that should be repressed and remain unspoken. Even desires that aren't sinful somehow seem wrong because it feels selfish or immature.

Without giving into desire, I've kept trying to fill my days with activity, hoping something will satisfy.  I had resigned myself to equating sleep with rest, accolades with success and busyness with fulfillment. I thought that in a broken world, being a fallen individual, this was a good as it could get. And yet, in the face of my desires, I have found how lacking the lists of crossed off accomplishments truly are.

I've been blessed with the opportunity to be heard, instead of listened to. I've been known, instead of just liked. I've experienced true community, instead of simply standing with a crowd. I've experienced things that awaken my spirit in a new way, where I'm drawn into the process, rather than trying to move as quickly as I can to get it done. I've been given for a vision that trades in a life well-lived for a life well-loved.

Somewhere in the midst of giving up my lists, I've given into a reality that reaches the deepest longings of my heart. Instead of waiting for the journey to be over, I'm looking forward to each step a long the way.