The air around her smells new, clean, fresh from heaven. Her head wobbles as her eyes take in everything. Every moment is a mystery to her. She notices her foot and pulls it to her mouth. Her eyes sparkle in wonder and my heart opens in joy and wonder.
She is precious. The years fly by even though to tired parents the days seem long. I think of my own children, the joy, pain, and mirror they bring to my life. Oh I want her parents to know the joy too. I want to share their joy.
In only a split second I get in the way. My desire for more children eclipses the joy I feel for this new family. I dare not hold her or linger long as my heart bursts with pain instead of joy. I miss out.
It is the disease–the disease of comparison. I let my longings eclipse the joy I am to share. I miss out on holding little ones, singing them songs, and encouraging their parents because I am too full of myself.
Why I can’t have more when I can afford more and want more. Why I can’t have an “accident” of my own. I pick at the wound God is healing pouring the acid of self-pity, selfishness, and despair over it.
Is my hope in having more children or is it in God? If my hope is in God then can’t I trust Him to give me what I need rather than demand what I want? When despair takes over can I as the Psalmist suggests “put my hope in God?” If I could lay my longing at the foot of the cross could I join in the joy of others? Is it clinging to what I want that keeps me disconnected?
When I lay my longing at the foot of the cross and trust God to do what is best then I can find peace. In that God-given peace I do not miss out on the joy of others. This grief does not interrupt my joy, but reminds me that joy is God’s gift to me. Joy grounded in knowing He has what is best for me planned out.
What would happen if I stopped comparing? What do you think?