The Middle of the Clouds

I don’t like hugs. I’m not a very physical person in general. I blame this on being born and raised in Japan, a country in which you never touch anyone. Ever. Unless you’re on a very crowded train and you accidentally bump into someone. And that’s the way I like it.

In the US, however, people touch frequently and hugs and handshakes prevail. (Who decided that it was polite to firmly grab a stranger’s right hand and move it up and down, anyway? I’ll never find that un-strange.) I’ve spent a few years in the States, so I’ve adapted. I know when people are about to go in for the handshake, the church-appropriate side hug, or the occasional full-on, I’ve-never-met-you-before-but-I-love-you Southern hug. I respond accordingly. But suffice it to say, hugs are not my love language. I understand them cerebrally as an expression of affection, but they don’t really do much for my emotions.

But gifts? I FEEL a thoughtful gift in the depths of my heart. The same with words, whether affirming or hurtful. Both of those things really matter to me. Yesterday, while flying from St. Paul to Nashville, God gave me both- a gift of words.

Well, OK, one word.

I made another looong trip from Tokyo to Nashville yesterday. I’ve probably made that same trek about, oh, a hundred times. It never stinks any less. (It can stink MORE, though, I’ve found. A month ago I made that trip with my two-month-old baby, yeesh.) I myself flew for the first time at a mere six weeks old, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now. Nope, still hate flying.

The reason I had to fly to the States yesterday is so that I can go get a shot in my right eyeball tomorrow. Fun, right? This will be my second injection. It seems I need them every 5-6 weeks in order to get rid of some fluid that is heavily distorting my vision in my right eye. The vision problems started about three months ago, not very long after my second daughter was born. After I fell into the dark, lonely pit of postpartum depression for the second time. After months of prenatal depression because I couldn’t take my medication while pregnant. A month ago, with my baby and my mom, I flew to Nashville for my first injection. While we were away, my oldest daughter Audrey got very sick. My poor husband had to take care of her by himself for two whole weeks.

When I returned, she wasn’t any better. In fact, she was worse. We rushed her to a nearby clinic where we live in Japan, then to a local hospital where she was diagnosed with bacterial meningitis, then to a large Tokyo hospital where they treated her for a cranial tumor.

Well, they tried to treat her tumor. Hundreds, even thousands, of Christians all over the world joined my family in prayer for my sweet almost four-year-old. When the time drew near for a biopsy, they discovered that her tumor had shrunk. We prayed some more. Two weeks later, it had disappeared.

My family and I had first-row seats to a modern-day miracle. We are in awe of Audrey getting stronger every day. She will make a full recovery, something I still can’t wrap my mind around.

BUT. She’s still in the hospital. She’s been stuck there for over four weeks and it seems we have at least three more to go. I had hoped we’d get to spend her fourth birthday at home, but that won’t be happening. I’m disappointed. I’m tired. My husband’s tired. Our parents are stretched to the max trying to help us. I miss my baby. My poor vision in my right eye is a constant nuisance and source of discouragement. Everything is so, so hard. After all the depression and other medical problems, I feel completely broken and all out of endurance.

This is where I found myself yesterday as I flew to Nashville, alone with all of my thoughts. It’s as if I finally had time to reflect on everything that had happened to me and my family over the last few months- unexpected pregnancy, prenatal depression, culture stress, labor and delivery, postpartum depression, mastitis, migraines, vision problems, sleep deprivation, sudden international trip with baby, eye injection, Audrey’s sickness and hospitalization, a real-life miracle, the outpouring of love and support from family, friends, acquaintances, perfect strangers…. It was all too much to process.

I tried to distract myself by reading a book I had downloaded specifically for the trip- Fight Back with Joy by Margaret Feinberg. (Can I just say how thankful I am for Kindles?? I have a hard time reading physical books these days, as the font is too small. You can make the text on a Kindle as giant as you want!) I was so tired of being trapped in despair, and felt ready yesterday to, well, fight back.

If you haven’t read this book before, I highly recommend it. I did the Bible study about three years ago, and it honestly changed my mindset on what suffering really is. I thought I had read the original book that the Bible study is based off of, but I discovered yesterday that I hadn’t. Read the book. It will change you. It has already changed me.

The book was written by a woman who had just received the diagnosis of breast cancer. In the midst of all her surgeries and chemo treatments, she made it her mission to practice and pursue joy. I’m just amazed by this. If Margaret could find joy in the middle of emotional and physical pain, can I, too? Am I too broken for joy?

During my layover in St. Paul, I wandered into a bookstore. There are dozens of bookstores in the Minneapolis/ St. Paul airport. But this one was extra cute, and I had some extra time, so I stepped inside. My eye was drawn to the notebook section. One was gold and glinty (I love gold). The cover read, “In Japan, broken objects are often repaired with gold. The flaw is seen as a unique piece of the object’s history, which adds to its beauty. Consider this when you feel broken.” I blinked. Wasn’t I just feeling broken beyond repair? Hadn’t I just come from Japan?? It was too uncanny. I took the notebook’s message to heart, believing that God meant for me to read that and feel encouraged. I am not too broken to be made into something beautiful.

I boarded my connecting flight feeling a little stronger. I read more in my book, taking notes and nodding (on the inside) as I went. Then I came across these words, in reference to the apostle Paul and all of his many trials (including incarceration and his physical thorn in the flesh)- “The apostle Paul compares us to imperfect jars of clay. Our flaws and broken chips become exhibits of God’s power and grace. Within each container, God is at work.” Yes, God WAS speaking to me about beauty in brokenness! This was confirmation. OK, God is going to use this pain and these trials for something good. I feel assured of that now.

Margaret continued, talking about how Paul learned to accept his circumstances as those from the hand of God. This is how he learned to be content in any and all situations, even his miserable ones. We must learn to accept our hardships, adapt, and expect to see God working in the midst of them, she wrote. I paused and thought about that for a while. Maybe I’ve been fighting and arguing with my circumstances too hard. Maybe I’ve been kicking and screaming and asking “why?” when I should be accepting what’s happening and trusting the path God is leading my family through. 

As I contemplated this, a word came to me. A word from God. I never heard a voice or anything, but I’m certain it was from God. I’m a very visual person, and the word just appeared in my head in LARGE, BOLD, BLOCK LETTERS.

The word was EMBRACE.

Huh? I never use that word. I don’t even like that word. It makes me think of cheesy romance novels. Come to think of it, I don’t even like the act of embracing. (Remember? I’m the girl who doesn’t hug.) The word definitely didn’t come from me. And it hadn’t come from the portion of the book I had read.

Then I understood. Again, I didn’t hear Him, but I could sense God telling me, “I am embracing you. You need to embrace your circumstances.” Ah, I see. Margaret was telling me to accept my circumstances, but God was going further than that. He was telling me to embrace them.

That makes sense, I thought. OK. But…. How exactly do I do that?? I like concrete things in life, and I don’t do well with nebulous concepts. Perplexed and desperate, I asked God, I’m willing to embrace my circumstances. But what does that mean? Will you please show me exactly how to do that?

I didn’t know what to do except read on. A few pages later, the author wrote about the importance of mourning our old lives before a huge trial, and that we must mourn well and with intention. She used the Israelites and psalmists as examples of appropriate expressions of pain. Interesting. I’d recently learned a lot about the importance of lament from the book No More Faking Fine, but I hadn’t really connected lament with joy in my mind yet. Then these words of Margaret’s whacked me upside the head- “Through mourning, the people [Israelites] released the way things were so they could embrace how things might be. They traded their exasperation for expectation.”

There was that word, right there in front of me!! I could hardly believe it. God was speaking to me right there on that tiny airplane, ten thousand feet above the earth, in the middle of the clouds. He was giving me permission to be sad, disappointed, and to mourn. It’s beneficial, God said. It makes room for expectation, the expectation that He will make His presence known. That He will make good come from pain, that He will make beauty from brokenness, that He will fill in all my cracks with gold. I can embrace my circumstances, no matter how hard, because God is embracing me.

Tears started falling as I took all of this in and marveled at what was happening. God had never spoken so clearly to me before. He felt so near to me right then, in the middle of the clouds. He was not only speaking to me, but also embracing me and taking care of me. I was dancing and rejoicing on the inside, trying not to jump out of my tiny airplane seat and alarm the flight attendants.

After all this, I was CERTAIN that God had met with me. I didn’t need any more convincing. But even still, He reiterated everything for me yet again! After falling asleep on my sister’s couch and waking up this morning, I absent-mindedly scrolled through my Facebook feed. I saw my husband’s name pop up. He had just shared a quote from John Piper about an hour prior to my having seen it. It said- “Occasionally weep deeply over the life you hoped would be. Grieve the losses. Then wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have.”

I laughed out loud! There’s that word again. And the connection to mourning! My mom often says that you will recognize the voice of God because He will restate the same message in different ways through different messengers. It was the exact same message I’d received yesterday, from a messenger I hadn’t even had the energy to tell about my God-encounter in the clouds. My husband had no idea! God not only met me and spoke to me, He even took the time to reassure me that it was really Him. This couldn’t have come from anyone other than God.

Maybe fighting back with joy doesn’t mean fighting my surroundings. Maybe fighting back with joy means embracing my circumstances. Maybe giving in is the best way to wage war. Maybe surrender is the only way to victory. Not surrendering to needless suffering, of course, but surrendering fully to God’s plan. Maybe I can embrace God’s plan for me, no matter how difficult, because He has promised to embrace me first. Even in the middle of the clouds.

-Katie ✿