Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more
than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,
to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations
forever and ever. Ephesians 3:20-21
Fatigued, exhausted,
eight months pregnant with three very active young boys, I was driving one and
a half hours back and forth to Milwaukee each day for a work conference.
It was the end of a long winter and my family was in “survival mode.” My
husband decided, at the spur of the moment, that we should take a road trip to
Florida—16 hours away! Our friends had just rented a condo on the beach
for a week; it sounded so good.
The ob/gyn gave
the green light for me to travel, as long as I got out of the car and moved
around every hour. All systems were “go”…if I could actually get all five
of us packed in two days, in spite of my long hours away from home. I had
my doubts, but my husband thought we all needed the warm weather vacation.
On Thursday, after a
long day at the conference, with 3 boys clinging to me, in a frenzy, I packed: Find the right size summer clothes and
swimming suits for each boy and my very pregnant body. Check. Dig out the life jackets, sun
hats and beach towels. Check.
Search for the favorite sand toys, dump trucks and shovels. Check.
Everything was
collected in the back hall. I was worried that the boys would pulls toys
out of the pile, so I gathered everything together and put it in two giant
yellow trash bags. “Wow,” I thought. “I actually did it! I actually got
us almost all packed.”
On Friday, I took off
for the last day of the conference. When I finally came home, I was ready
to pack the van. I walked in the back door, ready to load my carefully-assembled
beach necessities, but I didn’t see anything. “Okay, who took the bags?”
I called to the boys. I looked around the house. As the moments
ticked by & I couldn’t find the bags, I began to panic. “Who took the
trash bags with the beach stuff?” I screamed. The babysitter and boys
looked at me with large, unknowing eyes. I frantically searched my mind
for where those bags could be. I called my husband at work to ask if he
knew where the bags had gone, but he didn’t know. As I continued to look around, I became more
& more distraught. I picked up the phone to dial my husband again. As
I did, I had a little moment of recall from the morning when I pulled out of
the driveway. There had been the usual two big trash cans but next to
them were some yellow garbage bags.
As my husband answered
the phone, I was screaming hysterically, “Did you throw out everything I packed
for the beach?”
He calmly replied, “I
don’t think so, honey. Where did you have it?”
“By the back door in
yellow bags,” I shouted.
“Trash bags?” he
asked.
I slammed down the
phone and ran to my bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably.
After a few minutes, I
called my mother. I told her what had happened and that I needed to go to
the dump & try to find our stuff. She tried to talk some sense into
me. First of all, she reasoned with me that I should not go to the dump;
it would be impossible to find our belongings. Secondly, she told me that
even though I was crying now, someday this would be a family story we would
laugh about. Third and most importantly, she said, “Get down on your
knees right now and ask God to give you the strength to forgive your husband. You
cannot do this on your own.”
Mom was right. I had
to have God’s strength to be able to forgive my husband. I could not do it on
my own. (And my husband needed God’s strength to even come home from work that
night.) I did what Mom told me to do. I literally got down on my knees
and asked God to give me the strength to forgive my husband and the strength to
go on. By the time David got home from work, I was at least speaking to
him. In the morning, we began our 16-hour odyssey to Florida. Some of the
doctor-ordered breaks on our journey were at K-Mart to buy beach
supplies. We did have a warm, beautiful beach vacation. There was
no dump-diving that night, and eventually we were able to laugh about the whole
thing. It has become a classic, funny family story. Most importantly,
many times since then, I have heard Mom’s words whispered to me, “Get down on
your knees and ask God to give you the strength to forgive.”
Who are you angry
at? Who do you need to forgive? Don’t rely on your own strength.
Ask God “who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” to
give you the strength to forgive.
Dear God, Thank You
that Your mercies are new every morning; that You wash me clean by Jesus’ blood
and forgive me for all my sins. Please give me Your power and strength to
forgive all those around me, especially those I find difficult to forgive.
Shine Your forgiveness and love through me. In Jesus name, I pray. Amen
