Clichés & Dark Chocolate
Last week I had a terrible day. An awful day. The kind where you are already wishing for a re-do by 10 a.m. I’ve been exhausted by a lot of different things lately, and a lot of it has been outside of my control. Each day feels like running a marathon, and just as I cross the finish line, I have to wake up and do it all over again. And on that particular day, when I was already limping on mile three, complaining that the day’s finish line seemed half-way around the world, I got news that a beloved person in my life is pregnant again. And I don’t know why, because I’ve felt pretty peaceful about this infertility thing lately, it knocked me out completely and suddenly I was no longer running toward the finish line, but collapsed in the dirt, unable to move.
And I cried. But these weren’t tears of resentment, anger, or even hurt. They were tears of exhaustion. Of just being tired and wanting to know that I wouldn’t always be here in this place. But knowing I couldn’t let myself wallow, I said a prayer, wiped my tears, and set about my day’s checklist, kinda shutting everything else out.
And then, a few hours later, I unwrapped a Dove dark chocolate. Caveat: I have a love affair with dark chocolate, and my co-workers tend to make it worse because they are always dropping little red foil-wrapped hearts on my desk. I usually enjoy reading the little sayings that are printed on the inside of the wrapper. I find them amusing.
Except for this particular one.
It said, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”
I wanted to throw it across the room. Seriously? Of all the things I needed to hear that day, THAT was not it. And I was mad. Granted, I usually put ZERO stock into those type of things (i.e.: Chinese fortune cookies), but why couldn’t it have said something cute? Or, something that made me chuckle to brighten my day? For some reason, that little piece of foil felt like some kind of sentencing. A Divine one. And I wanted to rebel against it. To push it away because I was NOT exactly where I am supposed to be. Right God? I’m just passing through. Like a tumbleweed breezing across the desert on its way to the Promised Land.
But as it so often happens, when I have a little bit of space and time to gain perspective, I realized this is EXACTLY what I needed to hear.
And it’s hard to hear. And it’s hard to accept and while I want to shove it away, I force myself to stand here in this spot, allowing my toes to wriggle in my boots, forcing air into my lungs, slowing down the heartbeat hammering in my chest. This place, where I don’t want to be, is EXACTLY where I am supposed to be. And I’m not going to force the “why?” and try to explain it away. Some things aren’t for me to know right now.
So, I’m going to allow myself to be comfortable in the uncomfortable, knowing that while I don’t understand it now, there are things at work that make this place beautiful.
I’m not a tumbleweed blowing aimlessly across a desert of meaninglessness. I am a daughter, wife, sister, friend, and beloved child of a God who paints desert landscapes with His presence in colors of shimmering gold, and a dazzling ombré of purple, orange, and red. I see Him all around me and it fills me with a type of wonder that makes me want to lay down my own self-sufficiency, anger, and doubt at His feet.
And yes, I do believe that God uses the mundane, everyday things to speak. Even cliches, wrapped around dark chocolate. Look and listen. You’ll find Him.