Thankful for a Knowing God

  "Oh Lord my God, I cried out to You, and You healed me."

Psalm 30:2

            Thanksgiving is a hard holiday for me. I am so grateful for the sweet taste of pecan pie, the smell of cinnamon candles, and the fairy tale ending of the Hallmark movie playing in the background while my adopted mom cooks. I really disliked Hallmark movies freshman year. They were too sentimental; too unreal. Yet, this year, they seem to have snuck their way into my heart despite the fact that the plot is really predictable, and everybody looks like a model. Despite all the predictability, the movies are pure and happy. They always have a good ending. The holidays bring people together instead of pulling them apart. Every character eventually finds a sense of belonging, and they never go back to who they used to be but are changed for the better.

            I have to admit that in this season the holidays are hard for me. I woke up this morning wanting to be thankful for all the many people and blessings God has given me. However, there was another part of me that still wanted other circumstances. I did not feel thankful; I just knew I should be. God had brought me to a place of close intimacy with Him this year. I had made new friends and gained an adopted family, lived in my own little apartment for a month and a half, entered my junior year of college, and had the privilege of hearing 30+ women share their abortion journeys with me. There was a lot I could say “thank you” to God for when I went on my walk this morning.

            At the same time, I do not have a healthy family to spend the holidays with. I am so grateful for my friend’s family adopting me into their home and yet I still lack that sense of belonging. I do not feel like I belong to anyone. Granted, I am twenty-one years old and graduating in a little over a year and growing up involves change and independence. I still want to feel like I belong—that I am loved and part of my own family.

I did thank the Lord on my walk this morning; but, at the same time, I allowed myself to lament to God about the many other parts of my life that I still don’t understand or that still hurt. I told Him about wanting to belong.

            I think one of the most beautiful attributes of God, if not the best, is that God knows me. He knows my heart. He knows my soul. He knows me. Not like how my best friend knows me or even my biological family. He knows me so deeply because He wove me in the womb. He knows everything about me because He made me as I am. He gave me a passion for telling stories, drinking tea, and watching BBC dramas. He even knows the number of hairs on my head and even the spontaneous freckles that dot my nose now. Who would have thought that I would develop freckles at twenty-one? It is a silly question perhaps to ask, but He knew.  

            It is a precious truth that God knows you and me. Even when we do not feel it or that knowledge does not hit us as special on a particular day, that truth remains. I can say “thank you” to my God for that truth—for knowing me. I can also thank Him that I can lament as a believer. Lamenting is not hopeless. Lamenting is not despairing. It is a cry of the heart of a child to that of his or her Father. It is one of feeling and yet one of faith. To lament is the cry of the soul to its Creator that all is not as it should be and only He can make it right. Only He can heal where broken slits in the heart still remain. His Son’s sacrifice made that healing possible.

            I am thankful for that.