Dickens’ classic story “A Tale of Two Cities” opens with one of the most famous lines in literature: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. How can we manage to have both at the same time? When things are bad, aren’t they bad because there is no good? And aren’t good things void of bad? Through the course of the summer and continuing on into fall, I have found my perspective regarding life’s unpleasantries changing, evolving, and maturing.
Sitting in the parking lot, rain falling in drizzles and splats on my windshield, I waited for Joel to pick Brooklyn up from school and bring her to me. The parking lot was packed. I sat there, sans make-up, wearing sweats, my old maternity fleece jacket (Yep. I still wear maternity clothes and I’m not pregnant – I’m that woman), three pairs of socks, my crocs, and Jackson snoring behind me. People walking by my car inevitably turned to peer inside my window, and I tried my best to remain incognito (I almost put my sunglasses on, but because of the dark, overcast sky I figured that might have attracted more unwarranted attention). I prayed several times that I wouldn’t have to get out of the car. I know I’m trying to be authentic and real, but I’m still a little vain and would rather not be seen looking so au natural.
On the drive home I was thinking what a dreary day it is: the weather, my appearance, the piles of clutter and dust accumulating at home. As this thought was twisting around in my mind, I swerved my car to the left in order to avoid hitting a man – who was either inebriated or mentally deranged – walking down the middle of the street. I momentarily glanced his way and he gave me “the finger.” “Hey Mister Crazy Man! I just saved your life, for crying out loud! Is that any way to thank me?” I wanted to roll down my window and shout this at him, but it was rainy, and I didn’t want to get wet, so I kept my rant to myself. Again, what a dreary day.
Not two minutes after being accosted with an insulting hand gesture by the mental case in the middle of the road, my thoughts recalled a conversation I just had this morning with a dear friend going through an extremely difficult and heartbreaking season. On the phone – crying together and praying together – from two separate countries, I could feel my own heart breaking and grieving for my friend. Being so far away, I can’t help but feel a sense of helplessness. My only contribution to her comfort is that I can pray, and keep praying, for her as she faces challenges well beyond what her own strength can handle. My friend truly is walking through “the worst of times”.
I have several friends, near and far, struggling through the darkest times in their lives. A baby died this year. A home was lost. A business downsized, and a job was lost. One family is grieving the loss of a dream. Another family is falling apart – their tragedy has taken its toll on their marriage. Budgets are shrinking, belts are tightening, and everyone is feeling the squeeze of a shaky economy. “The worst of times.”
This year my brother-in-law and his wife found out they are expecting their first baby. Their initial reaction was, “this is not a good time,” as he is also in his first year of dental school. However, it truly is the “best of times” for them. This life growing inside of my sister-in-law is no mistake, even though from a human perspective this isn’t a “good” time to start a family. From my own experience – Jackson was our big surprise – I can say that this hardly qualifies as “the worst of times”, but rather a precious gift from God. A baby makes this year “the best of times”.
This year a couple, desperate to hold a baby of their own in their arms, underwent treatment in hope of conceiving. They were disappointed. There were tears. And I am certain there were questions aimed towards heaven. Through the disappointment, however, they have reached out to God as they have never done before. They are finding that even while there is much hurt and sorrow in their hearts, God has been faithful to comfort and surround them with His strong and powerful arms of love. Their journey to know God through their journey of pain makes this year “the best of times”.
Heartbreak happens the moment, the instant, our hopes have been shattered, or we’ve stood on the sidelines watching our loved one hurting. Heartache is the pain that lingers after the heart has been broken. I feel so much heartache for my friend so far away today. I know that this season she is walking through will be painful and arduous. I know right now it looks as though this truly is “the worst of times”. I also know that when she comes through this night of sorrow, in the morning she will emerge with songs of joy (Psalm 30:5).
So the next time some meanie swoops in and snatches up a parking spot I’ve been waiting patiently to secure, or the line at the grocery check out stand detains me longer than I was expecting, or even if my car won’t start in the middle of a parking lot as the winter rain begins to set in, I will not allow my mind to translate these experiences into “the worst of times”. Instead, I will reflect on how absolutely blessed I am. How it is by the grace of God that I can breathe in and out every day. And that God is in every detail, every thread in this tapestry called life I am weaving. And, as Charles Dickens penned, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.
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