When Blessings Collide

By coffee time tomorrow morning, we'll be in the grip of a tropical storm. The winds howl outside our sliding glass door, and a steady rain kept my family from the beach. All twelve of us.

Are we missing out? Some would say so. I certainly spent some time praying the storm would head in another direction. But then I considered all the other families on vacation who would suffer. 

Would that have been fair? To send our misery their way?

A few months ago, I learned the results of a book competition I entered. While I didn't place in the finals, someone else I know did. Her next FB post stung.

Before I explain, let me assure you she didn't write anything wrong. In fact, I might easily have written the same thing. But I didn't have news to share. 

She did.

And there on her FB page she talked about feeling blessed to have placed in the finals after a physically challenging year. Surgeries made completing the book difficult. The hard work behind-the-scenes made the acknowledgement by her peers all the more sweet.

However, our similar stories made my loss all the more difficult to swallow.

If she was blessed, what was I? 

Now, I'd walked with God long enough to know that her win didn't trump my loss. Or that the accolade didn't elevate her in some way above me. 

I knew that in my head, but not in my heart. Thus, that loss made walking into the writer's conference I attended a few weeks ago even harder. My foot hurt. Steep hills intimidated me. And I was forced to lean on the walker.

But as I hid away from the crowd the first night, finishing a story in the coffee shop, she walked in. Then, without even looking my way, she walked toward me and sat down in the over-sized chair next to me. 

Aware of the irony, I called her name. As we spoke, I even told her what I was really feeling. And some how, as I sat beside my imagined nemesis, the "her-blessing-versus-my-loss" equation melted away. 

It no longer mattered.

Still, as weeks have gone by, a question has stirred: How many times have I felt overjoyed by something that hurts another? 

For instance, while two tall trees have fallen in my yard in the last few months, little damage has resulted. Praise God! Yet, I know of two people who have been killed by falling trees in the last six months.

Go figure.

Monday afternoon I spent thirty minutes having fun in the ocean before a jellyfish wrapped around my right arm. The rest of my afternoon was spent in recovery. After fun the next day, we're now smack in the middle of a flood zone where we'll be fined if we walk on the beach.

Is my vacation cursed?

I think not.

My sister, mom, and I just walked to the lobby of our very tall building to view the crashing waves. I told them we should pull an all-nighter and experience the full force of the storm.

But alas, my eyes are heavy and sister balked.

So I'll wrap this up with a few statements I scribbled in my journal while listening to last Sunday's sermon by Craig Bowler, "Intimacy with God requires our consent, not just our agreement. It takes us to a place where we are not in control. To a place of total honesty and total vulnerability.

Could it be that kind of intimacy is our greatest blessing?"

Could it be that all the other stuff, the good and bad, the victories and heartaches, the sunny days and stormy ones are all intended to lead us to intimacy with God?

So when my loss bumps up against your win or my healing against your wound, could it be we all have story to live that's meant to draw us closer to God? Most certainly. 

Will it all make sense? Absolutely not.

But perhaps it's not supposed to. Perhaps the point is to walk so closely with the Father that whether we win or lose, intimacy with Him stirs joy unspeakable and life everlasting.

All photos courtesy of pixabay.com