Growing Pains

On and off for the last year Isabel has been complaining of pain on her legs. It wakes her up at night. It is worse after she has had an active day. It is overall uncomfortable for her. Worried mom, I took her to the pediatrician who smiled reassuringly, patted my arm and explained that Isabel is suffering from growing pains. I told her I thought that was an old-wives tale but she assured me they are very real, especially in children of elementary school age.

And these growing pains are a good thing, she said. They mean her bones are stretching, doing their job to make her taller and stronger. Doing what bones were created to do. But, to the suffering little girl, this is only partially good news. Because the bad news is that there is not much to do but let them pass. She can take some pain killers to ease the pain temporarily, but these growing pains are part of the life of a child who is following the natural progression of growth, just the way God intended it. The pain she is going through means a more mature Isabel by next summer, both physically and emotionally.

Lately, I’ve been having growing pains as well. The spiritual kind. The kind that comes after a fruitful season of praying and seeking the Holy Spirit’s movement in my life. Be careful what you ask for, they say. For when I open myself to growth, Jesus begins to prune. And the pruning process is painful. Growth hurts. With each stretch of my spiritual bones and muscles I am uncomfortable. And at first, I protest, try to get away, raise my voice in indignation. Yet these pains are good news. The pains mean I am going through the natural progression of growth, just the way God intended it. The pain I’m going through means a more mature Gaby by next season, both spiritually and emotionally.

Isabel’s growing pains are deep inside her leg, beyond the muscles, right into the bone. My growing pains come from the outside. From dealing with difficult people and keeping a humble attitude. From silencing my pride when it has been injured because someone has stepped on my toes. From apologizing when I am not to blame, for the sake of a relationship. From allowing Him to teach me that my rights, my wants, my comfort are not as important as the greater good of his Body and his Kingdom. From admitting when I am wrong and changing my way or my perspective. None of this comes easy to me. Yet his grace is sufficient to show me just how to get it done. But it hurts. And stings. And keeps me up at night.

Unlike Isabel I have a choice to go through this process or not. I can tell God to forget it, that I really did not mean that I wanted to grow closer to him, that I was fine and comfortable just the way I was, thank you very much. And He would let me be. But just like a child who fails to grow, I would become stunted, underdeveloped, useless for the purposes that He intended for a more mature, strong, healthy me. So all I can do is let this season of growth run its intended course. But I wait actively, abiding in him as I learn from this pruning. Bringing my frustrations to him and letting him comfort me like I do Isabel in the middle of the night when she wakes up hurting.

Growing pains are not enjoyable. Yet like refining fire that purifies and cleanses, this scraping of my rough edges, of my resistance to be molded to his image, is what I need to do just what the Lord requires of me: to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with my Lord. 

**Joining with Jen and the sisters of Soli Deo Gloria ***

Even the words that are left unsaid...

The room was packed. It was the mid-morning step class with a popular instructor at the gym. I got there early to get a good spot and not be relegated to the back where it is impossible to see what the teacher is doing. She had gotten there even earlier and, as usual, was waiting in the front row for the class to start.

You know the type: full-on 80’s make-up, big, teased hair, very tight top, and incredibly short shorts neither one of which are very flattering with her pear-shaped body type, but that she wears as proudly as a runway model would. The kind of girl that would make good southerners say: “oh, honey” and “bless her heart.”

I had seen her often around the gym because, while I’m not the most consistent of members, she is always there. Always. And for some reason I cannot explain, I just did not like her. She rubbed me the wrong way and I had never even spoken a word to the girl. I don’t know her name, I don’t know her story, and she had never even acknowledged my presence so I had no real reason to dislike her. Other than the shorts. And the make-up. And the hair. Irrationally her appearance annoyed me.

So this particular morning as we began to step to the music, following the instructor’s directions, I started  watching her from behind and thinking about her lack of rhythm and those shorts riding up. And then there was a gentle voice, like a whisper at the top of a mountain, that simply asked in my ear:

-          Why are you being so catty? You don’t even know this girl.

There was no condemnation in that gentle voice, only deep sadness. But my heart was convicted right away. I had no answer so I just listened, ashamed, and willing to hear the rest of the rebuke.

-    How would you feel if someone was saying these ugly things about your daughter?

This gripped my soul with pain for the little girl with the sensitive heart that breaks when a friend is mean to her or when someone laughs in her face. I thought about the times I have held her while she shed tears of embarrassment or hurt over another little girl’s nasty comment. And then came the most difficult words of the whole conversation:

-          That, right there, is my daughter.

And I was found guilty.

And in response to the gentle voice that does not accuse but definitely convicts, with tender tones and loving reminders, all I could do was repent. And express deep regret and apology. I had been ugly and I had been hurtful.

That the girl never heard my words is irrelevant.

Just as hate is like murder and lust is like adultery, so is judging like insulting.

What is hidden in our heart is to God the fountain out of which our thoughts, our words, and our actions flow. My nastiness towards that girl came out of a bitter heart, so the work would begin right there, at the core.  I thanked God for his faithful guidance and for the Holy Spirit’s convicting work and went back to the prayer of David, with whom I always identify:

“May the words of my mouth AND the meditation of my heart, be pleasing to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” Psalm 19:14 (emphasis mine)

When He goes before you.

Last week I wrote about waking up to the new life God had dreamt for me more than a decade ago. Here is the other side of the story...

Quit your job, he said.

Lord, I hear you but…the budget does not add up.

Quit your job, he repeated.

You know best, Lord but…we would have to have private health insurance and that is expensive and no dental insurance and that is scary.

The time has come to stay home with your babies, he prodded.

I want to, Lord…but in this economy?

It took another year of praying, discussing, adding, subtracting, saving, finding faith, and getting courage for us to realize that yes, the budget would not add up; yes, we would have to get personal health insurance and lose our dental one; yes, this is scary but yes, the Lord spoke and we must obey.

So I quit.

After six years of teaching high school, the only grown-up job I’ve ever known, I walked away. I was near the top of my pay scale, I had a position of leadership, I had great benefits.

But I quit.

At a time when other people were desperately looking for work, I purposefully resigned. It was not easy and it was terrifying and many friends were puzzled and many others were frustrated with our seemingly illogical timing.

Still, I quit.

It seems to me that after walking with God for so many years, having experience after experience with his faithfulness and his provision I had finally learned to trust that He has a plan, that his ways are truly higher than my ways and that, when He requires we have faith and obey, He has begun working on what the future will hold.

I just quit.

But this God, this God will not be explained, this God will not be controlled, this God will not be fully known. While I sat comfortable in my knowledge of him, He had yet another lesson to teach me about his Holy character, his incredibly organized mind, his deep understanding of our journeys, and his perfect, oh so perfect, timing.

I entered my freshman year in college with the idea of becoming a journalist. After taking my first journalism class I dropped the major. It simply was not for me.

With not many ideas and little direction, having a love of theatre, public speaking, and teaching, I decided to major in Communication Education. It was a prayerful decision and I felt comfortable declaring the major.

I knew I wanted to teach but I had the opportunity to further my education before entering the workforce. With a student visa about to expire, with the threat of having to return to Ecuador before I was ready, and with an offer to earn my master’s degree for free by teaching undergraduate communication courses, I enrolled in a master’s in Communication Studies program at a large state university.  My elective courses were spent taking Spanish-related classes to enhance my teaching license.

Two and a half years later, with two diplomas in hand, and a state license to teach both communication courses and Spanish courses, I left for South Carolina with my newly acquired husband.

I never found a teaching job that required my communication knowledge. I was quickly hired as a Spanish teacher and, while my master’s did help me to climb the pay scale, my two diplomas were put away in a box in the attic, never to be brought out again. When people would ask what one does with a master’s in communication studies I would shrug and say: “beats me.” For years I taught Spanish, loving every minute of it.

Quit your job, God said six years and two kids later. 

I closed my classroom door for the last time in May of 2009. In faith, we began the journey of living with one income, of making ends meet, of re-arranging our priorities.

In June we took a trip to Ecuador and we spent time praying about how our lives would be different when we returned to the States.

In July I received an e-mail from an accredited, well-known online university. They required someone with a master’s in Communication Studies, with two years of experience teaching at the college level, who spoke Spanish, to teach from home. This job was made for me. Perfect. The pay is equal to what I was making before, the work is less demanding.

In September I was hired. God spoke again.

I’m glad you quit your job; I had better plans for you.

As He always had.

He knew what I would need right when I needed it. All the things He guided me to do all those years ago that I could not understand were part of a plan I could not see coming.

When I quit my job I knew He would be faithful, I knew He would provide, I knew He would come through.

I didn’t know He had already been faithful, He had already provided, He had already come through for this very moment, years ago.

This is the dependable God, the Creator of the Universe who still has enough time to worry about where I have been, where I am, and where I will be all at once; He understands my every need and orchestrates it all just as it needs to unfold. All I have to do is trust and obey.

I have been home for almost two years now and this is right where I need to be. As I think about how God’s handprint shows up even a decade ago to make my today what it is, I start to understand what Moses was trying to teach Joshua in the 31^st chapter and the 8^th verse of Deuteronomy:

"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you" (emphasis mine).


**Linking up with Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria sisters this week. Visit to see what other wonders God is doing in their lives**