“Your own ears will hear Him. Right behind you, a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,” whether to the right or to the left. (Isaiah 30:21 NLT)
**contains spoilers for the movie Overcomer**
I watched the movie Overcomer last night. It’s the story of a girl who’s life has a hole; her mother and father are absent. Though it’s been fifteen years since their loss, she’s never recovered.
Honestly, that part I can relate to. Life without either parent is a scar you never quite adjust to wearing, even as an adult. Many survivors compare it to an amputation. You attempt to acclimate, but only because the world insists on it. Most don’t understand because they don’t yet know what it’s like because they still have folks. I’m glad for them. They haven’t had to re-orientate their lives around such a catastrophic loss.
The ones without parents are in a club with terribly high dues. No one in this club ever casts stones because we are each just an unexpected memory away from falling apart one more time. We still grieve inwardly, silently. We’ve learned when it’s appropriate to speak our sorrow and when it’s time to just swallow it and go through the motions with everyone else. Just as the girl in the movie felt constant loss, so every orphan feels without parents.
I’m learning to lean in. I’ve asked my heavenly Father to fill the void, to tend the wound and heal my heart. And slowly, surely, He is. The pain of loss isn’t nearly as sharp as it was in the first few days, weeks and years.
In the movie, the girl finds a father figure to parent her heart. She’s a runner and he was once, too. He records a track, an MP3 of encouragement to aid in her race. With every stride, he cheers her on. I watched the girl on the screen gain ground and I blinked back tears, aware again of my own battle to stay the course.
I was so struck by the simple earpiece and the Father’s patient, pride-filled exhortations. I’ve missed that audible championing in my own life: a parent or two wildly cheering from the sidelines. Honestly, just because I’m forty doesn’t mean I don’t still crave their support. The race mid-life is harder than it was at twenty because runner’s fatigue is real. Life is a marathon, not a sprint and we could all use some encouragement in our ear. We get tired and tempted to look for easier routes, routines that will give way to our exhaustion.
This is when it is more vital than ever to listen for the voice behind us: the heavenly Father rallying for us. He wants to be in our ear, louder and clearer than everyone else. He has a plan. He knows the course. He’s fashioned our frames for just such a race. And if we hone in on His divine input above all else, we’ll finish strong. We’ll make our Father proud.
Today Lord, we lean in for Your voice alone. We listen for Your truth in our ears. Lead us in the way we should go. Parent our hearts all the way Home. Amen.