One night several weeks ago my husband said, “I’m sorry you’re so angry.” Ouch. It was not a dig in any way. He was legitimately sorry that I was angry, and boy was I. Not at him, but about something silly like losing my glasses or the kids taking too long to poop on the potty during potty training. But I was a whirling dervish (sidebar: I’m always looking up these terms I use in slang, while a dervish is actually of Muslim origin, who knew?, the slang term is defined by the urban dictionary as, “a person whose behavior resembles a rapid, spinning object…” – how apropos). But my anger was so out of relation to what the object was. Even I recognized, in that moment, that it was about something bigger. My husband just happened to be subjected to the overflow.
I’ve written before about how sad it is that the ones we love most are the people who end up bearing the brunt of our sad, bad, or angry bouts. Simply because they’re the closest to the volcano.
Then I read this post by a writer I love to read, and the words punched me in the chest. I was getting angry because I was at a similar crossroads, feeling like some of my life plans were in conflict with some plans I’d been hearing God wanted me to implement, and there was no answer to the “what next?” questions that were turning into shouts. But what if, just as Acuff suggested, God was doing exactly what the father of the prodigal son was doing: Instead of thinking that God’s silence means he is mad and disappointed with you, what if he might be quiet because he’s too busy planning a party for you? What if, even as you come home dirty and fallen, God is not ignoring you? What if he’s embracing you on the road back home, and he’s not talking to you because he’s so focused on planning a party for you?
Is there any way that I could turn all that anger over not knowing, anger about not having control over the next steps, into joy that I serve a God that cares about my future and wants the very best for me? A God who has shown me over and over that His silence does not mean absence, but instead His silence reflects He is hard at work behind the scenes.
I heard a song at my church where one of the lines was, “It will be my joy to say it’s your will, it’s your way.” Isn’t that easier to sing than to live? To trust HIS timing?
Instead of wasting time lashing out at those I love because of uncertain circumstances, I will endeavor to love on those people and show them gratitude for being my safe place of support. The angry restless piece of me will learn to rest in the silence until God chooses to reveal the next portion of this journey I am on.