He will cover you with his feathers, and
under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and
rampart. Psalm 91:4 NIV
I might look at you and wonder how you can carry such a
load. I might look at you and wonder how you can get away with so little. You
might look at me and wonder about me. How can I ‘complain’ when my visible load
seems so small to you?
The truth is that God customizes each of our loads. Heavy
not to crush but to build our strength. Heavy enough that we cannot carry it
alone. Heavy enough to encourage us to turn to Him. I cannot judge your load. I cannot judge your strengths
or your weaknesses. You cannot know mine.
God gave me an intuitive awareness of the inner needs of
others. He gave me a spiritual gift: to touch people with His mercy. He gave me
people, purpose, pets. These things rub against each other like tectonic
plates. When the pressure is too great, the earth shifts and throws me to my face flat on the gritty
emotional ground, my load grinding into my spirit.
Last Tuesday my load shifted beyond balance. I spent the
day trying to decide whether to give up my dogs. True, Jesus entrusted them to
me. True, every dog I’ve ever had has been a much-needed emotional support
animal, whether vindicated by a certificate or not. True, I owe dogs big time,
long story. True, they’re sensate creatures with strong attachments who would
grieve deeply.
Without the dogs, no more friction from the canine
tectonic plate. I could give more to people, enjoy visitors without fearing for the dogs' sense of peace and safety. Without the dogs, we wouldn’t be
tied down, could travel.
But to betray them would be to betray the God who entrusted them to me. (Proverbs 12:10) I can’t throw them back into the rescue system. Frightened and confused, they wouldn’t show well enough to find new homes, and older dogs rarely do as well with re-homing. I
can’t put them down without living with a tremendous sense of guilt and regret
added to my load—and the load would be even more off kilter without their love
and with the added weight of resentment at being forced to this choice.
But as much as they matter to God, people made in His
image matter more—and I cannot balance them.
Without my ESA’s, could I write? No more weight on the
pet corner, the purpose corner crashing down on the people corner, shattered. Two
legs gone of the three. How long can I teeter on one? Without them, would I
have anything left for people? People are very draining to us strong
introverts, more so without opportunity to refill with uninterrupted
solitude—and with ESA’s.
Avi, help!
Late that night, I walked down with my girls to secure
the gate. Looked up. A wide contrail, one edge blown into streaks by the upper
winds. Centered in the sharper edge, a waxing gibbous moon. Feathers! The moon
had wings! Wings like my Father’s wings, spread wide to shelter me.
Satan doesn’t give up easy. One really bad day, a moment
of comfort, then another heavy day—but God doesn’t give up, either. I woke this
morning with songs in my head and a realization: the problem is my new pocket
tape recorder! When that old devil tries to sit heavy on my soul, I pull out my
pocket music and he has to scat.
But the new one has no music on it yet!
David had to encourage himself with his psalms, reminders
of God’s faithfulness—and so do I. Without this secret weapon there’s a chink
in my armor, a crack in my helmet. I don’t doubt that Jesus has and will save
me—in the long run. But I also have no
doubt He’ll let me feel as if my burden
will crush me—in the short run.
I cannot walk on water if I take my eyes from Him. Music
focuses my gaze, pulls it from the stormy waters. He Touched Me—and I am
healed, whole. A Mighty Fortress—a strong, safe place to shelter in, to fight
from. Near to the Heart of God—where I belong as I’ve never belonged in this
world, where I will stay.
Avi,
how do I find words to thank You? I have none. Help me to live a life of
thankfulness. In Your Holy Name, Amen.
