A few weeks ago, the lyrics of an old song by Green Day randomly flitted through my mind, and ever since then I have regularly found myself humming the song and reflecting on the words.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone
My shadow's the only one who walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone
I walk alone
It's true. The road that I walk is lonely. I rush from school to therapy to school to doctor's appointments to another hurried drive-thru lunch to late naps as usual to rushing around to pick up the house/feed the baby/figure out dinner plans/prepare for the onslaught when nap time is over to helping boys survive until Daddy gets home while one desperately wants the attention that the other one's sensory needs require.
It is a difficult thing to go to events as a family, since Wesley struggles in groups. So instead of enjoying spending time with friends, one of us always ends up caring for him, alone, and leaving discouraged, wishing we had just stayed home.
I rarely talk to my friends any more, as time is a precious commodity around here. A few extra moments are hard to find. And anyway, it seems that our lives reached the T in the road and mine went one way while theirs went the other. Some days I honestly don't know how it's possible to maintain friendships with those outside of the world of disability. Mine is a world that I cannot escape, so unless others press to get in and join me for a while, time goes by and relationships fade.
It is a difficult thing to go to events as a family, since Wesley struggles in groups. So instead of enjoying spending time with friends, one of us always ends up caring for him, alone, and leaving discouraged, wishing we had just stayed home.
I rarely talk to my friends any more, as time is a precious commodity around here. A few extra moments are hard to find. And anyway, it seems that our lives reached the T in the road and mine went one way while theirs went the other. Some days I honestly don't know how it's possible to maintain friendships with those outside of the world of disability. Mine is a world that I cannot escape, so unless others press to get in and join me for a while, time goes by and relationships fade.
But thank God, I don't walk alone! Jesus has found me. He has saved me. He has redeemed my life from the pit and crowned me with steadfast love and mercy. He promises to never leave me or forsake me.
Sometimes the way God leads us is through the sea and His path for us is through the great waters. During times like this, His footprints are often unseen. (Psalm 77:19) But even though I am walking through the difficult waters, seemingly alone with no footprints to follow, this I know to be true: He is with me.
"But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior....You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you.'" Isaiah 43:2-4
And though I don't see His footprints to know where He is leading me, I am seeing more and more that He is not leading me to a place but to a person...Himself.
Walking the lonely road gives me the opportunity to count all things as loss to gain Christ.
(S)uffering is nothing more than the taking away of bad things or good things that the world offers for our enjoyment—reputation, esteem among peers, job, money, spouse, sexual life, children, friends, health, strength, sight, hearing, success, etc. When these things are taken away (by force or by circumstance or by choice), we suffer. But if we have followed Paul and the teaching of Jesus and have already counted them as loss for the surpassing value of gaining Christ, then we are prepared to suffer.
John Piper, Called to Suffer and Rejoice: That We Might Gain Christ, August 23, 1992.