Seeing Life Differently
By Alisha Renee
“Where do you think they’ll be in 10 years time?”
“Not where they think they’ll be.”
My husband had leaned in to ask this question at our friend’s wedding. I didn’t mean for my answer to sound cynical, I was simply speaking what I now know to be true: Life doesn’t always turn out how we imagine it will.
When I said ‘I do’ at 19, completely enamoured by my handsome groom, I had a picture in my mind of what our life together would look like: We would be partners in ministry on the mission field, and we’d see God use us in powerful ways to transform lives. I would glow through pregnancy, and we’d raise kids who play beautifully together, encourage each other and greet me with a kiss each morning. Our home would be filled with people, and we’d host social events where the walls would echo with laughter, much like the one I grew up in. My husband would shower me with romantic words, and there’d be cherished moments with grandparents where we would enjoy the support from loved ones.
Clearly, I have a wild imagination that somehow got stuck in Utopia!
The reality? We burned out after 6 years of ministry in Australia. Andrew is a project manager and I, well, do a bunch of different stuff. I was crippled with fear during two pregnancies, and suffered from an undiagnosable skin condition, along with constant hip pain through the other. Our kids sometimes connect beautifully together, but most often I feel like we’re managing a battle zone. We have a household dominated by introverts who love to stay home and recharge alone. Yes, there’s laughter, along with a high dose of heated discussions where opinions are shared unapologetically. Words of affirmation don’t come easily to my husband, and both of my parents passed away before my youngest was born, leaving me without the support network I longed for.
This was what I saw when I looked at the story of my life—a story of disappointed hopes and unmet expectations.
Or so I thought.
Over the past few years, I’ve grieved for the story I wanted. It’s good to grieve. Tears are so cleansing. Grief isn’t reserved for the death of loved ones. The death of dreams needs to be grieved and processed too—lovingly and patiently.
After releasing the pain of having a story I didn’t want, my heavenly Father showed me that there’s another way to see my story. Another lens. I’m no photographer, but it’s like I had my finger firmly pressed on the ‘zoom in’ function and was focussing on the blemishes of my life in all their microscopic detail. He invited me to hand over the camera I was taking snapshots of my life with. He adjusted the lens and gently showed me a different view.
And what I saw was beautiful.
Yes, the painful parts of my story are still present, but there is beauty, too—so much beauty…
Andrew and I are partners in parenting, and we cheer each other on in our different daily missions. God delivered me from fear during my pregnancies and held me through the intense physical suffering with His whispered promise that ‘It will pass.’ It did. Nate offers me a hug when he knows I need it, Rachel steps up to help when the chips are down, and Amber comforts me when I’m hurt. Although they argue a lot, our kids are quick to defend each other. They are passionate about justice, have an incredibly strong work ethic, and our family bands together to help when service is needed. Our kids often gather around us in the living room with a togetherness I adore, asking honest questions, debating hot topics, sharing their opinions and listening to our guidance—well, sometimes! Andrew is my best friend who shows his love through loyalty and acts of service. He values me for who I am, not what I look like. And God has not left us without support on our parenting journey. We’ve had good friends and relatives who have been there for us and our kids. And the togetherness I longed for in our family was actually fostered through us needing to pull together to make things work on our own.
Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
I don’t know who said this, but they’re right. There is beauty to be found in every trial, every disappointment, and every challenge, if we take the time to look at our lives from a different perspective.
Sometimes we can’t see any good because it hurts too much. That’s OK. But there comes a time when we need to zoom out from our pain, so we can embrace the beauty of the bigger picture and move forward with hope.
I was missing out on so much joy by focussing on what I didn’t have—what I thought I wanted. My vision had been blurred by expectations I wasn’t willing to let go of. I didn’t realise that by holding on to these expectations, I was missing out on the beautiful things that were already present in my life, as well as new possibilities.
No, my life isn’t what I expected it to be, and that’s OK. I have a beautiful life. Not only that, it is a joy-filled life! This isn’t because everything has turned out the way I wanted it to. It hasn’t. It’s because I’ve chosen to let go of my idealistic expectations and adjust the lens. God’s goodness is evident in every snapshot of my story.
And that’s what makes it beautiful.
‘Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me.’
Psalm 116:7
PROMPT: Have you taken the time to grieve for unfulfilled dreams, disappointed hopes, or unmet expectations? It’s OK to call it like it is. For some, grief and disappointment is expressed with tears; for others it’s with anger. Whatever you need to do to release the pain from the parts of your story you didn’t want written on the pages of your life, release them. You don’t have to carry this with you anymore. Invite the Father to show you where His goodness has been in your story. Write down what you see, thank Him for it, and look forward with hope to the future.
PRAYER: Father, I don’t want to take the pain of disappointed hopes into another year. I release them to you. I let go of my ideals and expectations. Where I have unfairly placed these on my loved ones, I ask Your forgiveness. Help me to see the goodness and the beauty in my story. I surrender my past, my present, and my future to you. I believe You have beautiful things in store for me, even if they are not what I expected. You are a good Father. You have never left me, and You never will.
