Nancy
   McGuirk

When my last child left for college, I walked back into the house and sat on my bed in tears while rummaging through childhood photos. For years we strive to get our children to a place of independence. Once the mission’s accomplished, where’s the celebration? I felt sad and adrift.

As I changed his diaper, my father looked up at me and whispered, “Funny how life has come full circle. Seems like yesterday I was changing you.” The ALS had taken its toll. Dad needed to be fed, bathed, and dressed. Daily. I was exhausted.

When the phone rang, I could hardly understand my sister’s frantic words. Sobbing uncontrollably, she shouted, “Danny had a heart attack last night! The doctors don’t know if he’s going to make it!” In shock, I said, “I am leaving now and will be praying all the way there!”

We just returned from a family vacation. We had four females and two males in our group. Guess which group brought the most luggage? And guess which two ended up carrying most of it? Over time, my daughters and I have learned to travel light—and my husband and son are grateful. All journeys are more enjoyable when we choose to carry less baggage.

Silence the alarm. Crawl out of bed. Coffee? Check. Return emails? Check. Scheduled appointments? Check. Off in the car I go.

At a prayer service for the husband of a dear friend, a large crowd sat in silence as his wife rolled his wheelchair into the chapel. We had known this man through the years as vibrant, strong, and energetic. But the man we greeted was weak, pale, bald—and very much living in the moment.

Here I am, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleepless. Body still but mind racing. Why does life seem darker at night? And I don’t just mean physically. It’s as though Satan and his minions wait for me to be alone so they can attack my mind.

I’ve never been good at following directions, especially while driving my car. My internal compass left me confused, if not lost. When I became a Christian I suffered a similar fate—I found that the internal “life compass” I used before could no longer be trusted.

Being real and transparent doesn’t come easily to most of us. It’s easier to hide behind perfectionism, performance, and persona. There’s no cost involved, no shame to endure. But there is also no fruit produced.

No one wants to suffer and yet we all will at some point. And we can expect depression and discouragement to set in if we think we have no hope. But trials are not meant to focus on you, but on the sufficiency of Christ in you. Whatever circumstance or trial you find yourself in, the purpose is so that “the life of Jesus may also be revealed” in your life.