We'll Laugh About This Somedayنموونە

It’s always the simple, mundane moments, the tiniest details of my beloveds that give me the most courage. A pandemic could be burning through like a brushfire outside our doorstep. Doom and gloom and sarcasm and meanness rolling through my newsfeed all day, every day, as it does. The world could crumble around us, my enemy could become a New York Times bestseller, my best friend could lose twenty pounds. My latest essay could flop, fans could unfollow, mean comments could run amok. My favorite comfy pants could go thin at the inner thigh. I could get sick or go bankrupt, be estranged from someone I love, attend a funeral, get the flu on Christmas Day, or lose every single thing I own. Yet tucked away in our twin-size bed, with our faces glowing by dim light, I just knew, no matter what—we would be all right.

Deep in my soul, it is well. . . .

My mind wandered to the moment years before when I cried in the bathtub, miscarriage looming, begging God to let me keep my baby. I wish I could go back and soothe her, give her a picture of this moment. I know the pain is unbearable, but it will get better. In fact, it will get so good some days I’ll want to burst into tears. Would I have believed me? I think so. That’s what’s made faith so magical in my life—the audacity to believe God for the impossible is what brought those very things to life.

So many moments were supposed to be the beginning of the end. Apocalyptic, even. And they just . . . weren’t. Continuous, rolling, anticlimactic dramas. Vanity of vanities, it’s all just vanity. So much time spent worrying over things that never even happened! Worrying about things that didn’t even matter.

Because, really, it may seem grim in the moment, but we’ll laugh about it . . . someday. Just give it a little time.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank you for surrounding me with glimpses of your glory. Please continue to walk with me and help me to see how you are at work in my life. Amen.