This is an excerpt from HomeLife Magazine.
I commonly refer to 2006 as the worst year of my life. It all began when my husband lost his ministry job, and overnight, I felt old, fat, and poor. Each month that followed produced another catastrophe.
Our home was hit by lightning which destroyed one TV, all landline telephones, and my beloved computer. Then, a threatening medical issue catapulted us into the eye-opening maze of health insurance after job loss. As if things weren’t bad enough, a church reneged on a ministry commitment, causing me a serious financial loss.
On and on unpredictable calamities hit us. Waiting for the next wallop, I did what any mature Christian believer would do: I curled up into the fetal position and prayed for Jesus to return. My green prayer chair became a cocoon, where I longed for the distress to stop.
My fist was ready to punch the next person who thoughtlessly quoted Romans 8:28, or the ones who told me God had a purpose for my pain.
I didn’t want a purpose. At that moment I didn’t care about a purpose. Call me shallow, but all I wanted was for it to stop.
I was desperate for a drop of living water to restore my faith, my soul, and my desire to live again. I felt like I was living the life of Job, and by September I fantasized about running away from home. No plan or destination, merely, “Get me outta here!”
Safety From the Storms
When storms shroud my life, the only thing I yearn for is safe, dry land. I don’t care if God is using the downpour to produce compassion, patience, ironclad faith, or any other Christ-like quality. It hurts, and I want it over — very simple. Whimpering, I cry out, “Heavenly Father, make it stop. I know You’re big enough.”
And there’s the rub. When you have an intimate relationship with God, you know He can stop the pain; His capability isn’t the hindrance. It’s His timing we question, the why that snags us. I call this torture; God calls it pruning. I loathe the process.
In my journal dated August 21, 2008, I wrote, “During 2006, it felt as though locusts had infested every area of my life, and when they finally moved on, I was stripped bare. I had nothing left. Only the Life Giver could breathe existence into my nostrils. His touch was the one thing that could transform my dust into pulsing flesh and restore radiance to my ashen cheeks. I was a dead man walking but now — Resurrection! I feel akin to Lazarus.”
Stepfamily, do you hear buzzing? Is it the cicada song? Perhaps locusts are swarming around your sweet, blended home. Maybe they have stripped your family and your emotions bare leaving you naked and exhausted.
It might not be job loss or medical issues as it was for us that year. However, the stepfamily journey is complicated, which means there willbe seasons that feel as if someone is sucking the life out of you drop by drop.
“God sees you. He hears your cry and counts your tears. He won’t leave even if it feels like it.”
Laura Petherbridge
Kids bouncing from home-to-home can create tremendous instability for everyone. And if the former spouse doesn’t participate in healthy co-parenting, it may seem as if every decision is a tsunami sweeping through your living room.
Take heart; it’s normal. In every situation Jesus sees you. He hears you. He still has the healing, resurrection power to restore your world. God does love your blended family. He desires to teach you how to parent and guide your children, even if you don’t see them every day. And when they’re making poor choices or rejecting you, God can and will heal you.
A Rainbow Will Come
When the storms of 2006 were crashing against our window, I couldn’t find a ray of light. I was depressed; I wondered if I would ever have a normal life again. It didn’t seem possible.
The enemy of our soul loves to keep us in that abyss of obscurity. He wants you to believe your blended family is doomed. He is masterful at portraying a dismal outcome and tempting us to forget all that God has promised to those who love Him. He wants you to believe you’re on your own, and that your past sins, which Jesus forgave when you asked Him, have landed you in the current torrent. He wants you to isolate. And that’s often what we do in the storm.
Your kids and stepchildren may be rebelling against everything in God’s truth. They might believe social media’s lies about where to find their identity, happiness, and acceptance. They may be headed for a train wreck. Guess what? None of those poor, unhealthy choices change God’s power or His ability. They can’t paralyze His outreaching, never-ending hand of compassion and restoration. His love, provision, and compassion for your stepfamily never changes. The storm may be raging, but He hasn’t forgotten you or your family.
Even when you can’t see it, trust Him.
My journal revealed that our storm did pass. Did we have bruises and scars? Absolutely. However, those welts and wounds now serve a higher calling.
I point to them and offer a fellow sojourner encouragement by saying, “Let me walk beside you in the storm. I’ve been there. I know it hurts. God sees you. He hears your cry and counts your tears. He won’t leave even if it feels like it.”
Weathering the Storm
Ask your pastor if there are other healthy stepfamilies in your church that you can befriend.
Obtain resources that explain what to do in a stepfamily storm.
Collect Bible verses that reveal and remind you that you’re not alone. Read them out loud over your house and with your family.
Find one friend you can trust to share your struggle.
Spend time alone in nature; let God soothe and comfort you. Breathe deeply.
Make a list of the times God has rescued you from a storm in the past.
Make a list of what you know is true and what you think is false.
