A Few Thousand Ordinary Days

I layed in bed last night, restlessly tossing and turning. I couldn't will myself to sleep anymore than I could have willed myself to fly. My wife, T--, hadn't been feeling too well before bedtime, so she was downstairs sleeping on the futon. Otherwise, I would have probably just toughed it out in the dark, but instead found myself turning on the light.

Tuesday was a tough day. I spent it cleaning my office, and came across so many old files pertaining to the church. So many dreams, so many disappointments. Looking at those old bulletins and idea files, I couldn't help but get caught up in the hope and excitement of the early days of my work. But now the dreaming is over. My workplace is giving every indication that the outreach work we're involved in will be dead in the water by October.

One o' clock, Two o' clock. I stressed. I read. I stressed some more. I read 1 John. I read a chapter in Walter Wangerin's Book of God. Great. It was the part where Jesus turns all dark before and during the Passover. I stressed some more. I leafed through the latest issue of Macworld. Stressed. Tried to lift my mood with The Tabloid Bible, but the laughs weren't forthcoming. More stress.

"I've been proactive. I've sent out some resumes, called my contacts. I even have some really good leads." But my lack of self-confidence betrayed me. The darkness seemed to press in on the one lonely lightbulb burning in the night. "What if I can't find a decent paying job? Where will I work? How will I take care of everyone?"

I should have been happy last night. I was happy last night. It was my daughter's 11th birthday. We went out to eat and had a great time. We were all silly and loud. I looked at my daughter across the table and noticed what an attractive young lady she has turned into, with friends, hobbies, and opinions. I couldn't have imagined any of this when we brought her home in 1993 -- a fragile little bundle. How things change.

How quickly, too. What's 11 years, anyhow? Just a few thousand ordinary days. When H-- came home from the hospital her mom and dad were just newlyweds, with little experience of the harsher realities of life. Today it seems like we've survived every trial imaginable -- a miscarriage, broken dreams, financial difficulties, even a brief separation. Conflicts within and without. But we survived.

Tonight we went to Applebees to celebrate. Okay, so it's not Planet Hollywood. But when H-- was born, eating out was out of the question. I worked three jobs but couldn't get ahead. T-- and I didn't always know how we were going to buy formula, diapers or even pay the rent. (I remember a few years into our marriage that going out to McDonald's every other week on payday was a big deal.) The south side of Jamestown isn't going to be mistaken for Beverly Hills anytime soon, but it is nice to be able to celebrate once in awhile, buy groceries, and not have to worry about taking the kids to the doctor!

In 1993, I had a certificate from a technical school. I never imagined that I would ever have a college degree. But now I have a few of 'em. In 1993, I had a job. But now I have a profession. In 1993, we rented a chilly apartment. But now we own our own home. Or at least the mortgage company lets us think we do! All those changes. All in just a few thousand ordinary days.

Life is funny like that. How did I go from being a DJ and video editor to pastoring a church and doing public relations? I've changed so much emotionally, spiritually, and socially. The little H-- laying in her crib would hardly recognize me. Heck, I wouldn't recognize me.

A few dozen people will gather for church next Sunday. They will come in bearing every kind of wound and burden imaginable. At about the midpoint in the meeting I will approach the pulpit dressed in my silly blue pilot's uniform, and give them something that can help them make it for another week. I can only do this because I have hope. I have been through dry spells so long that it seems like rain is nothing more than a cruel rumor. But the rain did come. I have been desperate beyond words and seen things work out. I have seen my marriage crumble away to dust, but somehow, get drawn back out of the tomb like Lazarus. I have drawn on reserves that I never knew I had. I have seen the providential hand of God at work.

All in just a few thousand ordinary days. I remember thinking, "Today's troubles will be tomorrow's victories." I was comforted by the thought. I read a chapter of Brennan Manning's Abba Child, said a prayer, and slept at peace. (I also had dreams that comforted me, but for the life of me I can't remember what they were about. Just the warm feeling they left me with.) I woke up and the birds were singing.