Sometimes, the one thing we need to hear is, “You’ll get through this.”
When my world was upside down and my health spiraled down into the depths, I remember when my husband would say to me, “You’ll get through this.”
“How?” I would ask, overwhelmed with questions.
“I don’t know,” he would reply. “But I know God will carry us through.”
Through what? To where? How? He couldn’t say. But he knew somehow I needed to hear these words more than anything.
Often I think it’s in the knowing that we find comfort or in the answers that we find security. Sometimes I think that wisdom is having quick answers and our “isms” all figured out … but yet, why is it that the simplest words sit right in that ache when explanations ten thousand words long can leave us so empty at times?
And so I send off to you these words, knowing how powerful it is to hear them.
You will get through this.
To the weary, hurt, ashamed, lost, lonely, sick, undignified, overlooked, discouraged — you will get through this.
Whatever it is, seen or hidden beneath the layers you wear, you will get through this.
Because do you remember when you were a child, with an imagination so vivid, that you could be anywhere and anything?
And there was nothing you couldn’t overcome?
Remember when the bathtub was a limitless ocean to explore, the kitchen chairs a massive fort to protect your kingdom, your wagon a thrilling roller coaster ride?
Remember when you curled in your bed with dreams, wiggled your toes against cool sheets, and wondered of all that was possible … and truly thought nothing was impossible?
And remember when you fell off your bike, scraped your knee, and realized words really hurt too … and someone calmly gathered you, wiped the sweaty tears from your cheeks, and told you, “Don’t worry. You’ll get through this.”
And you believed it.
Your little heart clung on to that, with hardly any deliberation or “paralysis of analysis,” and you just believed it.
I wonder, can we go back to that place? Can we go back to that place of trust, still passionate for knowledge and truth and wisdom, yet just as passionate for a sweet utter dependence in Him even when we don’t know? Can we rest our pounding hearts against the One who loves us best, forgives us, welcomes us back on his knees, and whispers to our scared, questioning souls, “I am with you.”
The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. ~ Psalm 116:6 (NIV)
I wonder, if we can stop and close our eyes for a moment, even before we let our thoughts rush in, even before we open our mouths to say a single word, and make our morning coffee? And let the waves, the chaos, the hurts and all the reaching and the thousand dizzying what ifs … clear from our minds for just a moment?
And I wonder, if we will see it?
Will we see that horizon?
The immovable, beautiful horizon. And the faithful way the ocean meets the sand, again and again. The way it calls us back everyday, to see our lives through child-like faith. The way it all quietly says, we’ll get through this because we are made for so much more, and simply because He carries us.