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  • Writer's pictureKalan

Minivan Moments

Updated: Jun 2, 2020

The other day while driving in my beat up, last legged minivan my kids asked the hard questions.  The ones that make you pause.  The ones that give you PVCs.  The ones that hurt.  

I am driving along, watching the road, wondering what the heck smells in the minivan (no telling) and they strike me out of left field. 

My heart clenches. “God, how do I answer them?” A whispered cry under my breath.

I have learned that the effort to be slow and cautious with my words when it comes to difficult conversations is worth it.  My kids have been through some stuff.  I have been through some stuff.  I know that when I give my children the answers that will impact them, I need the Holy Spirit talking, not me.  I want them remembering wisdom and faith and assurance that can only come from God.  My words alone will not be sufficient, so God, help me.  

I answer.  I pray.  I keep answering because one question leads to another and another and another.  I repeat the same message I’ve repeated many times over. Life can hurt, and sometimes it just stinks.  It doesn’t always look like what we want it to, but I know with everything in me that there is a God who is present and who is faithful.  I serve a God who sees us and cares about us, and I trust Him. I don’t know how He will heal every hurt, but I know that without question, He will.  I know it.  I know that scars are places on us that have been opened up, trampled on, and hurt, but they have been repaired.  They are healed.  And scars?  Well, they’re the strongest part of us.  And God uses those scars to help others find the finality of healing. 

I tell them again about trusting a God who makes shattered things beautiful.  I describe once again how I put my faith in a God who has an individualized calling on each and every one of those little heads in the back of the beat up minivan.  He has had a plan for them since before time began.  I tell them about a God who never leaves us nor forsakes us.  I trust a God who never failsNever. 

Though the earth gives way.  Though the fig tree does not bud.  Though tears fall, just as they did that day, silently and slowly after the conversation died down and babies dozed to sleep.  Though.  Though.  Though.  He loves us.  He loves my babies.  He hasn’t forgotten us for one second, and He never will.  Even in the moments where He felt silent.  In the moments where He felt like a long lost memory from childhood.  In the moments where not a whisper was heard.  He. Never. Left.  And because I have lived through those painful moments and have learned to trust through the silence, I can say with confidence that in the moments to come where He once again will feel distant, I can be reassured that the doubt is a figment of my emotions and a lie of the enemy rather than the promise and stability or existence of a God who holds all the pieces together.  

He is the rock on which our life can be built, and wave after wave can not destroy the house He builds.


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