It struck me today, as I walked down the hall,
far removed from the battlefield of trauma
where most of the wounds are from friendly fire
and the length of the warfare is interminable,
that my prayers sound like pleas - “No more, Lord. Make it end, Lord. Give us a break, Lord. Please, Lord. Please.” I am praying easy prayers, that is, prayers for ease.
And then it came, His response to my cries.
No pain, no growth - do you want that?
If I answered your prayers for ease in the way you wanted, you wouldn’t be able to wade into the depths of Who I Am.
You would be shallow and vain and soft.
Your faith would be untested.
And that’s when I see the price of growth and maturity and steadfastness.
I won’t trade it.
Those characteristics have granted beauty for the ashes and have imbued my suffering with purpose.
It was hard. It is hard. It will be hard.
But what I have lost - is it worth comparing to what I have received?
No.