I was making soup while I cried. My boys were running around behind me, my husband working steadily on his work, and I wanted to throw the pan across the kitchen.
“Why does this always happen to us?” I asked.
I concentrated on the butter as it melted in the pan, disappearing into a yellow puddle. In my fury, I willed myself to concentrate on the butter. To see it for what it is. I analyzed its color, texture, the way it spread across the pan as the heat slowly crept upon it from underneath. I didn’t want to pray. I was standing with my back to the Father, just as I was standing with my back to my husband and my boys.
Don’t let them see you lose it. Don’t let them see the tears. Don’t cry, because you shouldn’t be surprised. You should be able to withstand the frustrations of being in the toddler stages of starting a business from beneath the earth. Don’t let them see you like this.
So I looked at the butter. I gave it all my attention. I swallowed my anger and finished my task of making soup.
My son came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my legs as he said, “Mama?” I scooped him up as he smiled his toothy, squinty-eyed smile.
The fury melted away.
Traces of it remained, though. I was thinking about the current issue of being at the mercy of my husband’s clients. But, for the first time, I actually felt no fear.
Sometimes I wonder if people think our life is glamorous or easy because my husband and I spend every waking and sleeping minute together. It isn’t. Sometimes I wish there were a 9-5 job somewhere for people like us, but I also know people like us aren’t meant for jobs like those.
This life is not for everyone. It certainly isn’t for those who squirm in fear. Except, I’m one of those people. I have been that person since day one of the creation of Evan Delagrange, Freelance Designer. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in my husband. It means I’m terrified of losing everything.
The soup was bubbling on the stove, and I wasn’t afraid. Even though I could feel the heat of the remnants of my burning anger in the background, it was as though fear had just left the premises. It made my anger look like only a little fire next to me that could be easily quenched by my foot. So I stomped it out.
Two years, seven months.
That’s how long its taken for me to actually feel the bravery of my brave face. This is how long it has taken for me to fully believe in the power of God’s hand in my life.
It doesn’t mean I haven’t been believing Him. It means I’m finally right in the center of His palm, and I haven’t lost focus of His purpose.
I turned my back on Him for a moment. I let fury rage like a wildfire through my mind, but I let Him in quicker than I have in the past.
I’ll admit, I am on to burn in my anger for hours. I have ignored the coaxing of my husband to just talk about it, and I have shut down in front of my boys. I have lost myself to fear and to fury. I have turned my back on the almighty Father because I didn’t want Him to see me like this. I didn’t want Him to see His girl lose sight of His purpose.
Two years, seven months after the biggest jump of my life, and I willingly crawled into the Father’s lap. I let myself cry for a moment, and I looked Him right in the face. I acknowledged my frustration, my fear of what could be, and it was like He grabbed my face and willed me with His own smile. He’s a Father who isn’t shocked or discouraged by my crumbling. He wills me to lift my head up and to crawl up, grasp the Truth, and stand in the center of His palm. No where to go from here; this is where He wants me.
I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.