We've been having a bit of a 3 year old issue lately, perhaps you've encountered this yourself. I find myself having to repeat instructions 3 or 4 times to Karis, only to still have her not do what she's been asked. The problem is not that I'm not being clear - the problem is that she is not listening to me. Sure, she hears me, kinda, but the things already occupying her mind seem to drown me out. I realized that it's much the same way with God. I've heard people say, "Well God doesn't speak like he did in the Bible", but I beg to differ. In fact, it's a conceivable notion to think that since Pentecost, God speaks more. Not in a literally audible voice, but it might as well be, because it really is that clear. So why don't we hear him? Just like sheep recognize the shepherd's voice and a child knows his parents' voices, God's children know their Father's voice when he speaks. The problem is not that God doesn't speak, the problem is that we don't listen. The muddled mess that's going on in our heads often drowns him out. The way of God is not the thunder or the fire or the earthquake but the gentle whisper. As I've said before, He will not force Himself on you, to do so would go against free will. He longs for you, he beckons you, he stands outside your window with a boom box blaring a love song - but he does not force or coerce. God's love song to me lately has been "Live in the present moment."
About a week after I had Jacob, I realized that though I had brought my Zoloft (an antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication) with me to the hospital and back home, in the hubbub of having a newborn, I hadn't taken it for several days. Usually, I would've realized it soon before then, since the withdrawal effects (I mean "discontinuation syndrome" ...) reared their ugly heads about 48 hours after a missed dose, but this time it was simply seeing the bottle that made me realize I had gone so long without it. I had been on it since I was pregnant with Karis and had longed to be able to quit, but between me, my doctor, and my therapist, we knew that would be a long, challenging road better taken after Jacob was older. I wasn't sure what to do, I felt fine but I knew quitting cold turkey wasn't recommended, so I scheduled a meeting with my therapist and asked her advice. She told me if I was feeling good then I was fine not taking it. The reason quitting cold turkey isn't recommended is because of the withdrawal effects and the risk of a relapse if you stop taking it too soon, usually 6 months to a year after starting. It's easier to go back on if needed than it is to go back on just because and then come back off, so I took her advice. We're going on 5 weeks now and though I do get overwhelmed and stressed at times (what new mother doesn't), I haven't had a relapse.
So now what? As I've said before, HSP's have a neurological system that is biologically wired with a lower level of serotonin than most "normal" people. (I use quotes because that's such a relative term.) This means I will get stressed before others, I will feel pain before others, I will feel anxious and depressed in a situation that wouldn't affect others. But, it also means that I can experience immeasurable joy and purpose, things that were deadened by the meds. There's two sides to every coin. At this point in my life, through natural maturation and therapy and lots of prayer, I have healthy coping mechanisms in place and the best choice for me, right now, in this present moment, is to forego the meds.
We live in a world of seemingly perpetual horror. There's always a disaster lurking around the corner, whether its sickness or job loss, a hurricane or a flood, a bomb or a gun. Many of us live in perpetual fear of these disasters, constantly on guard against anything that can harm us or those we love. We struggle daily, hourly, to build walls of steel around us. "If I can just get this one last thing into place, I will finally be safe, because last time, I wasn't ready." This is a normal human reaction, if we can control it, it can't happen again, right? Well, no. Trouble is, we can only react to these things, we can't really prevent them. Haven't you heard the phrase "Where there's a will, there's a way"? On this old earth, there will always be deeply disturbed people, uncontrollable wind and water, deep hurt and searing pain. It really doesn't much matter what we do, we will never "stop" the evil. There's the matter of free will again. It's true that God has conquered, but the hurt is still very real. So what can we do? Should we not prepare? Should we not worry?
Yes. No. Maybe.
The only thing we can do is live in the present moment. Not just exist, but really live. Now, I'm not advocating being impulsive or "YOLO" type behavior born from stupidity or selfishness, I'm advocating what's called "mindful living".
Here's an example: Right now, there is not a crisis in my house. Both kids are sleeping, Kevin is smoking a pork shoulder, and I'm writing. Could I create a crisis? Sure I could. I could worry myself over whether or not this latest storm signals an active hurricane season. I could sit by Jacob's cradle and agonize over every breath. I could worry that someone will break in and hurt us. I could convince myself that Karis' inattentiveness means she'll do horrible in school. Or I could take a deep breath and live in this moment, this moment that simply is what it is. To feel the keyboard under my fingers, to see the sunshine glinting off the wet leaves outside, to smell the aroma of smoking meat, to hear the song of the birds. God HAS worked in the past and God WILL work in the future. But right now, in the present moment, God IS working, living, breathing, and yes, even speaking all around us. But unless we learn to really look and really listen - right now, in this moment - we will not be a part of it. Every part of life can be a prayer; a child's laugh, a beautiful sunset, a backyard BBQ, police officers running to protect innocent people and help the hurt. God speaks through ALL these things, but do we hear him? Are our eyes open?
When we first moved to Florida, we got a chance to see the space shuttle launch for one of the last flights in history. I did as any 20-something with a new smartphone would do, I got my phone out and turned on the video camera. The smoke billowed, the crowd roared, and I struggled to find the perfect angle, moving here and there, frustrated that no spot seemed perfect - until I looked away from the screen and into the sky and saw the brilliance there in front of me. We got another chance to see a launch a few months later, even President Obama was in town for this one, it was a big deal. However, this time, I let everyone else film it and I just stood and absorbed the beauty and awe and monumental-ness of the moment. I knew that anyone who wasn't there could see any number of the thousands of videos taken, most with a much better angle than I had - but I still had something they didn't have.
I was THERE.
Not just there - THERE, every sense ignited and participating. I felt the tremors of the millions of pounds of fuel burning, I saw the light that is so bright it's like looking at the sun. I smelled the ocean breeze and tasted the salt in the air. I heard the rumble of the shuttle, far after it had left my gaze.
So today, I ask you: Where will you be the next time God speaks? Will you be present, ready, anticipating? Or will you be lost in the past? Wandering and wondering in the future? Don't miss it. Today is the only day that will be today.
