I'm a compulsive furniture mover. Every few months I rearrange a room in our house. Fortunately, Ted has grown accustomed to this personality "quirk."
Perhaps my constant "redecorating" stems from my need for change. In the last 31 years, I've lived in seven different states, not to mention multiple houses in each of those states. For me, change is normal and expected. When it doesn't happen, I create it in small ways by moving the couch, our coffee table, and my favorite lamp.
This month on Ungrind, our topic is change. Dictionary.com defines change as "to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone." Change -- for example, the rearrangement of furniture, the first day of a new job, the start of married life, the addition of a new baby -- can be welcome. Change can also be painful, though. Our articles this month look at both aspects, discussing how God can transform us through change.
We kick off our discussion with the article, "Blessed Anvil," by Sarah Forgrave. During the delivery of her son, she experienced 4th-degree tears. Over a year of symptoms and multiple surgeries sent Sarah into a depression characterized by suicidal thoughts. She writes:
Despite my surgeon's reassurance that it would take time for my body to fully heal, I allowed the demons of worry and worthlessness to consume my being.
They haunted me most at night after I went to bed. In the quiet house, dark thoughts popped in my head, urging me that my life no longer held meaning. My mind flitted to the pain pills stashed in the kitchen cabinet, and I wondered what would happen if I took them all at once. I never climbed out of bed to find out. Deep inside, I knew those voices didn't come from God, and I recited scripture to shatter their influence.
But it was during this time that God also revealed to her a new passion and purpose: writing.
I readied for bed one night and came the closest I've ever been to hearing the audible voice of God. He said, "I want you to write. I want you to chronicle the struggles you've faced and overcome, as a channel of hope for others just like you." I questioned God's sanity. After all, I worked in the analytical field of accounting. Sure, I loved to read, but did that really mean I could write?
As I embarked on this new path, I discovered a defining purpose for my life. Writing not only provided an outlet for my emotions, it allowed me to understand my true self, the person God weaved together in my mother's womb. He knew about gifts and desires that hadn't yet revealed themselves to me.
On those days when I move the couch across the family room, creating forced change, I remember those instances in life when, like Sarah, change has been hard, unexpected, and unwelcome. I definitely prefer small, controlled change. Yet I also realize, as this week's article shows, that a day may come when the anvil we despise can be called "blessed."
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