I’m
not sure I could tell someone else how to do it because it’s something I’ve
come to by living through my life thus far. It has not been the default
option; I’ve come to it really, through
having just about every little dream I had as a young woman, stolen, shattered,
diminished or impinged with sorrow.
My
two lovely girls remain; shafts of light
in a family sectioned by brokenness, betrayal, abandonment and grief; they are silvered gems set in a sea of disappointment.
They are what remain. I am learning to
greatly value what remains, not to the diminishment of what was taken away, but
rather, the losses make what remains more cherished. Cherished today. The future, like the past,
is another country.
My
contentedness is not so much a result of my now-calm life, but rather because I
have learned not to hold on to things too tightly, lest they be taken away.
I
no longer have the capacity to dream, or the expectation of future blessings. I have no emotional impetus to want or expect
things – even good things because they always carry with them a package of
possible disappointment. I have opened
so many such packages.
That
sounds bleak. It has the dull thudding
bell of resignation about it. It seems
like the gloom of having nothing to look forward to; or no longer living in hopefulness. It isn’t
like that. I do look forward to things, but they are always simple things, like
enjoying a quiet evening at home, at the end of a busy day; or watching the blue wrens find their
breakfast in my garden. I look forward
to time spent with family; more
grandchildren; retiring from the workforce one day. The difference is, I no longer hold onto
these things with a tight will. I hope
they do happen, but I don’t expect anything more than what I have at the
moment. If I look to the future with no expectations, then out of that flows
the well-spring of contentedness; the
sister of contentedness is acceptance of how things really are; “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be
content”.
I
have journeyed so far beyond deciding what I want for me. I’ve journeyed to a calm, valley of
thankfulness for what remains; the deep
anchor of acceptance of what God has allowed to be taken; the promise of strength in whatever is to
come. I simply live in the present now.
If good things come in the future – as I’m sure they will – my heart will
rejoice.
I am learning
too, to live the verses in Romans 5: 3-5
Not only so, but we
also glory in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope.
5 And hope does not put
us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the
Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
If I look to the future with no plans or
desires of what I want it to hold, it is not hopeless, but rather filled with
the hope that does not disappoint. Contentedness is a rare commodity; found after you’ve discarded (or had taken)
all the glittering worldly prizes you thought you so wanted. Contentedness is part of hope; hope in a Divine nature which is always
working in us to complete the good work God started in us when we first began
our journey with Him.
It is good to have plans and ambitions and goals - especially when we are young. Just don't hold onto them too tightly. Make the default option acceptance of what is, and then contentedness with what God has ordained.
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