Treasures Unspeakable

It’s interesting how, when a woman is living through a crisis, she has the capacity to slip into “triage mode.”

And then there is “detachment” — another good survival strategy!

Sometimes detachment is not a good thing.

Sometimes it is.

For example, family and friends walking through my domain will see a world turned upside down and may feel compelled to remind me about the “mess” in my life.

“Pre-crisis me” would be wringing my hands in dismay as well.  But “mid-crisis me”???  The “new” me???

Not so.  I have found a coping mechanism.

Triage — namely, deciding which task is worthy of the limited time and energy that is available, while walking through the storm of my husband’s chronic illness.

Oh, for peace that prevails when chaos and confusion consume and a dozen duties call!

But how?  …

Detach and pray!

Does it matter that the fence remains undone for another year?  (Triage demands detachment … and surrender.)

Does it matter that the front door is falling apart?  (Triage demands detachment … and surrender.)

Does it REALLY matter that six patio tables are stacked in our back room because there is no other place for me to put them, or that Warren’s tin can collection is overflowing?  (Detach.  Surrender the “right” to order and beauty.)

Because, after all, it’s not about the house, the yard, the tables, or Warren’s unfinished recycling project.

We are dealing with a more important issue here — my husband — a fallen warrior.

Do you remember those old-fashioned pinball machines?  It used to fascinate me the way those balls “boinged” off of one rubberized pillar onto the next!

(It was fun watching those balls bounce hither and yon, but it is not so fun being one of those balls bouncing hither and yon, trying to balance all of the demands!)

That is when I have to remind myself about …

Triage:  prioritizing those things that vie for my attention.

And …

Detachment:  setting aside demands of lesser importance.

The ability to apply triage and detachment when life runs amuck is an incomprehensible gift that has been handed to me:

The ability, only by God’s grace, to surrender it all.

I am a grateful recipient of …

Grace:  divine assistance.  (And I have learned that grace comes when we need it, and not a moment sooner.)

And His grace brings …

Peace:  a state of tranquility.  (Glorious peace that I wouldn’t trade for the world!)

Yes, some may worry about the fence, the front door, the tables, and the tin cans  …

but they do not need grace for “my moment.”

I am the one who needs grace for “my moment,” and an ocean of grace is mine for the asking!

So, as the world whirls about, Jehovah El Roi, the God who sees, sits in the silent chamber of my heart.

He walks with me — or dare I say “boings” with me through each day, giving me discernment and wisdom to do the necessary …

…and He lovingly smooths my pillow each night

…and sings songs of deliverance as I slumber.

Triage.  Detachment.  Grace.  Peace.

All treasures unspeakable.

My husband will be okay.

And I shall not be moved.


From Charles Spurgeon:  “Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.”

— 2 Timothy 2:1

Christ has grace without measure in himself, but he hath not retained it for himself. As the reservoir empties itself into the pipes, so hath Christ emptied out his grace for his people. “Of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace.” He seems only to have in order to dispense to us. He stands like the fountain, always flowing, but only running in order to supply the empty pitchers and the thirsty lips which draw nigh unto it. Like a tree, he bears sweet fruit, not to hang on boughs, but to be gathered by those who need. Grace, whether its work be to pardon, to cleanse, to preserve, to strengthen, to enlighten, to quicken, or to restore, is ever to be had from him freely and without price; nor is there one form of the work of grace which he has not bestowed upon his people. As the blood of the body, though flowing from the heart, belongs equally to every member, so the influences of grace are the inheritance of every saint united to the Lamb; and herein there is a sweet communion between Christ and his Church, inasmuch as they both receive the same grace. Christ is the head upon which the oil is first poured; but the same oil runs to the very skirts of the garments, so that the meanest saint has an unction of the same costly moisture as that which fell upon the head. This is true communion when the sap of grace flows from the stem to the branch, and when it is perceived that the stem itself is sustained by the very nourishment which feeds the branch. As we day by day receive grace from Jesus, and more constantly recognize it as coming from him, we shall behold him in communion with us, and enjoy the felicity of communion with him. Let us make daily use of our riches, and ever repair to him as to our own Lord in covenant, taking from him the supply of all we need with as much boldness as men take from their own purse.


4 thoughts on “Treasures Unspeakable

  1. Once. again. another. message. I. need.
    As I sit, pondering a trip north that I want to make but appears not to be, I am consumed by clutter, clutter everywhere. Frustration…disgusted with my lack of “doing”. Frustration in not being able to visit my daughter and friends up north. Tax papers…gifts and cards (birthday, wedding, baby) purchased but unwrapped/unsent…dirty carpeting…dirty clothing…unmade bed…outdated refrigerator and cupboard goods…shoes scattered…mind scattered …tense…health concerns (mine and others’). The list is long.
    It’s time to get offline, take a step outdoors, breathe in the clean, crisp air. listen to the chirping of the birds and appreciate the beauty that awaits.
    But first, another “Thank you”. Thank you for writing and expressing the things of my heart–the things that really matter. God bless you, my friend.


    • Praying for you, too, my dear friend! Someday, when we both get to the other side, this will all be a vague memory! hahah!


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