comfort

Yesterday was the first day that I hated and loved being comforted in Christ alone.

I had a heavy weekend after a conversation with a friend Friday night, and my way to get relief was to talk to Phil. I didn't know what he would say that would make me feel better, but I knew it would be something. I missed him all on Saturday and was hoping he would call or email...maybe my distress signals would telepathically reach him in Afghanistan.

But he didn't call and I had to do Saturday, alone, just God and me. Sunday, though, he would definitely call - I was sure of it. I didn't sleep well, hoping it would be 7:30am already; I allowed myself to get extra sad and pitiful so that when I talked to him it would be more cathartic. I was ready for the cell phone to ring.

Except it didn't.

As hard as I stared at it, it wouldn't ring. So I made myself an egg sandwich for breakfast, read a chapter of a book, drank two glasses of milk - all the while getting mopier and thinking it would be aaaaanny minute until he called. A new feeling came instead: fear. What if something was wrong? What if he wanted to call - he received my distress signals - but he couldn't? Panic.

I started to pace: I needed to get ready for church but that meant I was moving on and I didn't want to move on - I had to talk to Phil! (Prior to this point, the thoughts in my head ended with periods; now they were ending with exclamation points.) I picked up my phone, staring intently at it, then decided I would call him. Just to make sure he's okay, I told myself. I won't blab his ear off, was how I justified this needy act. So I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing.

I hung up and decided I had waiting long enough to get ready. I got dressed, put on some makeup for the first time in a week - blush and all - and took my things with me out the door. Then - RING! It was him! He received my distress signal! (Not really, he received my actual phone signal.)

"Hey, did you call me?" And suddenly I felt embarrassed.
"Yes," I sheepishly answered. Why did I call him? I thought. Of course he's okay!
I mumbled a few words about how I had a bad feeling and I just wanted to hear his voice.
"Oh," he responded. "You okay?" he asked after an awkward lag time.
And then I remembered I was supposed to get my cathartic cry out! So I started crying except I couldn't articulate why.

"I had a hard conversation with her...I feel so heavy...I'm happy for our marriage...I am not very strong..." And though those seemed like stellar reasons for crying - the best, really - all he could respond with was, "I know. I'm sorry."

And I was thrilled I got to vent and tell him what a crappy weekend I was having, but I still felt crappy. And on top of that, I felt childish. Here my husband is off fighting in a war, and I'm blubbering because I had a bay day, so bad I had to CALL him on his EMERGENCY cell phone.

We hung up and then I was alone in the car, driving. Here's where I hated and loved being comforted by Christ (I take a while to get back to my point, but I do...eventually). I hated that I couldn't portray to Phil how cruddy I was feeling and in turn, he didn't know what to say. Normally my equation is Jesus + Phil = comfort. And this is in no way a blame on him, but for this particular scenario, my sadness was my own and not a shared one. How could he understand, not having heard the conversation or been present to hear all of the details afterward?

I'm glad, on the other hand, that he didn't offer much solace because then I HAD to rely on Christ. I was feeling so down and burdened - way more than a no-good day - and I had to stop feeling that. Who else could I turn to but Christ? I had to call a man almost 7,000 miles away in war, hoping he had answers. The God of the Universe, however, was right there the whole time with the answers all along, from when I woke up to while I was eating my egg sandwich to when I was streaking my freshly applied Apricot Breeze blush with tears.

And Jesus is always there! He always brings comfort! So in the midst of driving with wet eyes, I talked with God and relented. And maybe if I just looked to God for comfort in the early morning hours when I couldn't sleep rather than making my own plans (and also accumulating a hefty international calling fee in the process), I would have been a lot more rested and content. Christ is slowly showing me that He is all I need - not Christ + Phil. And as much as I adore my husband and am so thankful for the comfort and joy he brings, I realize that those are gifts I don't deserve. I won't have those forever.

Christ's comfort IS forever. And that, my friends, is all that matters.