The Purpose of Suffering

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"Do not waste your suffering" Fenelon

This picture pains me. Not because I relate to it as a child, but because of the memories of my children's tears. Tears I caused; directly or indirectly.

A parent's love is fierce. Sometimes we take away, or limit access to, activities and possessions. The child doesn't understand our motivation. They want what they want.

And so the heartbreak. So the tears.

I'm a child of God. He is a loving, fiercely protective, parent. He gives. He takes away. At times my reactions are childish. I misinterpret His motivation when I should be analyzing mine.

When I suffered fifteen years of chronic, debilitating pain, I was stripped of my livelihood and purpose. I gave up teaching horseback riding, keeping school horses, and boarding student's horses. My days, once filled with outdoor activity, interaction with children, teens and their parents, the scent of horse and leather on my clothes, turned indoors, insular, and still.

I was imprisoned in a weakened body. I suffered physically.

During this time my children grew wings and flew the nest. I suffered emotionally.

As a leader in our church I was accused, by a member, of being manipulative and power grabbing. The leadership, at the time, didn't defend me. I suffered spiritually.

All this overlapped, like a series of storms battering the same coast. I suffered mentally.

Many days, weeks, and even months, I wasted my suffering. I cried, fussed, demanded and bargained with God like a pouting child. I wanted what I wanted.

However, many days, week, and even months, I experienced the deepest, joy, peace, and love. I allowed God to speak. I accepted circumstance I could not change. I rested in Papa's arms instead of fighting to get out of them. I let go and let God.

I hesitate to list advise. My suffering is my journey. The insecurities, fears and lies I face are unique to my story. No two stories are the same. No two journeys are the same.

I'm still learning how to:

• let go and let God

• stop fighting and rest

• lean in and listen

• open the locked areas of my heart

• share them with the Author of my soul

I can only leave markers on the trails I've walked. However, if someone, stumbling in the dark, sees a marker I've left, and it helps navigate the broken road of their life, then my suffering wasn't wasted.