Redeeming Disappointment

Writing with the potential that someone else will read what you’ve written has changed how I write. And not for the better. I’m not less honest, but less raw. I’m more worried about the correctness and flow than about the relief of the constant pounding of words knocking around in my mind. This has to stop or there is no use in writing here at all. I will go back to filing my musings in countless journals and pouting about how I never have the time to actually write.

The more raw truth is that I am currently disappointed, let down and unenthused. The push and stretch, the sacrifice and tears toward this several-year goal of a farm house on an acreage has come to fruition and instead of being joyful and celebratory, I feel deflated. Since we finally moved in two weeks ago, I have started and stopped two other posts. One was a list of the top 20 new things we’ve learned about moving this time (like how it is actually possible to misplace bulk toilet paper). The other was an attempt at a comedic telling of me rescuing my dogs from the cow pasture next door (or rather me rescuing the cows next door from my dogs or how my vehicle still has a faint smell of cow dung). But I couldn’t finish these poor tries at chronicling our transition because they were too light-hearted for something deeper that was actually happening. And I wasn’t ready to write about it yet.

Now we live in a beautiful house on 12 acres. Johnnathan has his own shop for future business and creative ideas and he designed all of this. I look around and see what we imagined. It’s our dream. So why am I left feeling so disappointed? I tell myself, Seriously, Shann. Come on. First world problem! Are you about to whine about getting your dream and it not measuring up? I almost gag in disgust and feel like punching myself in the face. But this isn’t really a complaint or the reason I’m disappointed.

I know the reason. Maybe I just thought it would be different this time. It’s the same feeling as why Christmas Day never fulfills all the hype, why weeks of insanity and all the doings and goings and gettings only leave you feeling exhausted, not satisfied. There have been only a few moments of real peace and satisfaction since living in my new house. Once was when I was working from home and got to watch snow fall quietly through the bare trees to gather in our yard below. Another was out to dinner for Johnnathan’s birthday. We hadn’t laughed hard like that in a while. The rest have all been moments with the kids: teaching Navy how to fold wrapping paper so the creases make triangles on the ends and reading to the girls in the evenings. All of this peace had nothing to do with this house.

I know part of me feeling let down is just how I am. Johnnathan and I both do this. We about kill ourselves to reach a finish-line and when we arrive, aching with the strain of it, we blink at one another, still panting, and ask, “What next?” But the other part is disappointment in myself because I know this. I’ve learned this lesson already...many times.

I learned it after suffering through lupus and rheumatoid arthritis and then getting better. I learned it in surviving severe post-partum depression and seeing the light of day again. I learned it when we thought I had cancer, when I had to have my thyroid removed and when Johnnathan thought I had died in his arms after surgery (but really just passed out). I also learned it when I got into the college people told me I couldn’t. I learned it when I married the man I desperately loved and thought was way too good for me. I learned it when I got my first real job, when we bought our first house, when I got pregnant a month after we decided it would be a good idea to try. I learned it when we graduated from ministry school, when we moved while we were broke (sooooo many times) and always had enough. I learned it when I held my children each for the first time and in every life milestone of achievement. I’ve learned it in the terrible and the excellent and I guess I re-learn it continually.

All of the sweet things in this life are somehow either interwoven in the wonder of this lesson or are a let-down in comparison. All of the bleak times I’ve been through, even when I felt completely without hope, were undergirded by something more powerful than looking forward to that time period ending.

The lesson I had to learn again these past few weeks has been, in the words of my teacher: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)

He also said: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."”

This article excerpt says it better than I can:

“Seeking satisfaction in the things of this world is like chasing the wind. Once you’re finally exhausted and weary from your pursuit, you’re left empty-handed and disappointed. You’ve wasted valuable time chasing nothing when you could have been pursuing true joy and peace.

The problem is our hearts are black holes of discontentment, devouring relationships and possessions, all while screaming, ‘I need more.’ We’re always eating, but famished. Always drinking, but never satisfied.

...

Herman Bavink once wrote, ‘God, and God alone, is man’s highest good.’ God is the source and sustainer of all good. He and he alone, as Bavinck notes, is ‘the abundant fountain of all goods.’ Nothing in this universe is able to produce true goodness, unless the Good Creator is its wellspring. This truth puts all of life in perspective for mankind. To state it plainly, if goodness is what we desire, we must go to the source of all goodness: God.”

Goodness, delight, and peace are the things I desire and wish to pursue but they are not found within the walls of the house we built. They are only found in the True Cornerstone. Jesus has been to me a true friend, comforter, rescuer, therapist, and the king of my heart. My satisfaction has only ever come from Him and the disappointment in this house has been another gift from Him, a reminder of His love for me. He never loses patience with me when I strive after the wind and he welcomes me like an amused father of a toddler as I crash exhausted into His arms. He even tenderly soothes me when I cry for no reason. I told my children that they got a house this Christmas but this was wrong. We got Jesus again this Christmas and every one before and already received the best Christmas present of all time forever.

This prophecy from the book of Isaiah was written about 700 years before the birth of Jesus Christ:

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” (Isaiah 9:6-7‬)

My prayer for me, my family and anyone who reads this is that peace and joy are not found this Christmas season in anything that perishes. When you are inevitably disappointed whether from the food that wasn’t quite as good as you imagined or from the hoped-for words of acknowledgement that were not given, smile to yourself and whisper to Him, “Thank you for the gift.”

The true gift, the best present, the reminder that we were never supposed to strive for things outside of Him was given to you. Embrace the disappointment! My prayer is that we use it to be reminded to rest in what truly satisfies. I wish you a very merry Christmas.