Our God is a Fourth-Watch God

Life is somethin' else, isn't it?

Do you ever feel like Life sometimes starts beating the crap out of you for no apparent reason? Blow after blow after blow, Life throws at you. And it gives you no warning, really. There you are, walking along with Life, and the path is a little rocky, but things are mostly okay. But then, suddenly, BOOM! A fast fist to the face. And another, and another, and a kick to the gut. You're trying to stay upright during this beating, but you fall to the ground and then you're trying to catch your breath, but Life's like, NO WAY! You don't get to breathe! and then Life stomps your face in. And you're like, I wanna die. I'm lying here trying to breathe. I'm bleeding everywhere, and I can't find a place on my body that isn't hurting. Life has betrayed me, and I wanna die. And then, sometimes, it seems for a moment that Life is easing up. You think you can get up if you can just open your swollen eyes. Finally you blink open your eyes just in time to see a seagull above you as it flies away after dropping its feces, which now blankets your bloodied, beaten face. Like frosting of acid over cupcakes of carrion. And the bird poop on its own wouldn't be so bad, but after you've been beaten to scraps, it feels like Hell. Have you ever experienced something like that?

That's been my life over the past few months. Blow after blow after blow. These thoughts have been common:
Why can't things go smoothly, just for one day? 
Will this ever end?
I am sure I can't take any more of this.
Where is God? Is He even listening?
It's not fair!
I need Marsha!
Nobody understands.
I hate my life (and that is a very unusual thought to enter my head).
I want to give up.

God has finally eased some of my burdens. However, the lifting of some burdens have caused a seesaw effect, and some different burdens have become even heavier. But, my perspective is a little clearer.

It was really hard there for a while. And, already, I'm looking back with the understanding that it really didn't last that long. When you're in it, though, and you cannot see the end, it feels like forever. I feel like I'm still in the sea in the storm, but at least I'm floating, on a raft, even. I'm breathing. I can see hints of dawn on the horizon.

I attended a local mid-singles fireside on Sunday evening. The speaker talked about trials and the one thing he said that really stuck out to me was "our God is a fourth-watch God." I really let that play out in my head. I have noticed this myself. I have noticed that when I am in my trials, and it feels like God isn't there, it also feels like He doesn't really come in for the rescue until just before the moment of surrender to hopelessness. It always feels like Heavenly Father waits till the second before ultimate disaster to intervene. And, sometimes, He doesn't intervene at all, and ultimate disaster becomes reality. That's when you go on past the 4th watch and it's STILL dark. Time for dawn has come and gone without the sun. That's another post for another day, however.

I'm grateful to report that I'm at the tail end of my fourth watch. My Savior has come and rescued me, again, from drowning. Miracles and tender mercies have been my companions, even in the black, turbulent sea. The rescue raft was always on its way even though I couldn't see it until it had reached me.

Anyway, I have noticed in my own life, that the end of the 4th watch is often when I can finally see the possibility of light. I have also noticed that, for every new, great trial, each watch is longer than it was in the last great trial. Each storm is more terrifying than the last one. Each rescue raft begins farther from me than the last time. Each dawn, however, is brighter than the last one.

Through the last few months, I noticed I was drawing from the strength I gained from previous trials. Remember, that last trial ended? This one will, too.
Remember how I wished I'd relied more on the Savior last time? I'll rely on Him more this time.
Remember how Heavenly Father was really with me the entire time, and I just couldn't see Him because I was too close to the pain? He's here now, as He was then.
Remember how He didn't abandon me even when I thought He did? He will not abandon me now!

So I would take a deep breath, brush off the dust and blood and bird poop, and face the dark storm.

Sure enough, there was my God in the fourth watch. I thought the 1st watch was the fourth watch, frankly! It was so hard even then!

Today, I found this talk by S. Michael Wilcox, and in it, the following paragraphs:

There are times in our lives when we toil, rowing against the wind. We are trying to make progress and sometimes it seems that there are forces that are against us. There may be some great blessing that we deeply desire. There may be some trial that we want deeply to be over. And it doesn’t seem like we are making any headway against the wind. We wonder if the Lord is listening. Now we need to understand something about our Father in Heaven, and that is that He is a fourth watch God.
The Hebrew night was divided into four watches. The first watch—six o’clock at night to nine [p.m.], second watch—nine to midnight, third watch—midnight to three in the morning, fourth watch—three in the morning to sunrise.  Sometimes that creates a bit of a problem for us, certainly for me. I worship a fourth watch God. One who tends to feel that it is good to let His children toil in rowing against the wind to face a little opposition. My problem is that I am a first watch person. Now there is something inside of me that understands that it is good for me to toil in rowing against the wind. But certainly by the second watch He would come. And when the second watch has passed and He still has not come. Sometimes I forget that as Mark says, He is watching. He watched them toiling and rowing.
I began to make some assumptions that are often dangerous to make—maybe you make the same. We begin to assume that, number one, He is not there. That is why He’s not responding. And then we calm down and understand that He is there; He is always there. Then the second assumption is if He is there, He must not be listening. And then again, in calmer times—He always listens. Well then the third assumption is He must not care. No—He’s there, He listens, He cares. Maybe the most dangerous assumption, the fourth assumption is I must not be worthy. Now that fourth assumption we are probably correct on. But when has that ever stopped Him from responding; we are as worthy as we can be. We must assume that we have not yet reached the fourth watch; and He is a fourth watch God.
The scriptures are full of fourth watch stories: Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove—“At the very moment I was ready to sink into despair” (JSH 1:16). Do you ever feel that way? “Just at this moment of great alarm, I saw a pillar of light” (JSH 1:16). It was when the widow of Zarephath was gathering two sticks to make a final meal for her and her son that Elijah came walking through the gate to save them from the famine (1 Kings 17). It was when the water was spent in the bottle and Hagar had placed Ishmael under a tree because she did not want to see his death, that the angel came to say, Hagar, what aileth thee? and showed her a source of water (Genesis 21:17).
We worship a fourth watch God. So when the trials aren’t over and the blessings don’t come, don’t assume that He is not there, or He is not listening, or He doesn’t care, or you’re not worthy. Always assume you have not yet reached the fourth watch.

God is a kind and ever-merciful 4th watch God. I know there is wisdom to the winds He allows. I know I will be wiser and stronger at the end of this trial. I am grateful for it! I am grateful for the miracles I have seen during it. It's interesting because our trials are really customized to fit us. I know that my trials would scarcely be trials for some others. At the same time, some others would be literally unable to bear what I have born. I have heard that quote that says something like if we could dump our trials in a big community bucket and choose whichever trials we wanted, we'd take back our own trials. I really believe that! I'll take what I have, thanks. You keep your health issues, I don't want them. You keep your nightmare of a childhood to manage, I don't want it. I'll keep my divorce, I'll keep my single parenthood. I'll keep my loneliness. I'll keep my past with an emotionally abusive, adulterating husband. I'll keep my seemingly endless poverty. I'll keep my ADHD, and my son's Asperger's. I'll keep my addictions. You keep your loss of loved ones, your isolation from family, your homelessness (I've been homeless, actually! But I'm not now.) I'll keep all my trials, thank you very much. I like them better than yours.

And I'm so grateful that dawn is coming, and that He never stopped watching me during it all.

Like Mother, Like Son; Like Father, Like Daughter

First things first, I got my temple recommend back yesterday!!! I'm soo happy. I'm going tomorrow! It's been three long months.

And now, the real reason for my post. I've written about my son before. Both of my children are so wonderful and teach me daily, and I usually feel like the luckiest mom in the world to have them in my life, as my children. I used to think that my daughter was exactly like me- bright, creative, imaginative, happy, enthusiastic, bossy, emotional, controlling, and, oh yeah, hilarious- and that my son was nothing like me. I am laid back and adaptable; he needs structure and fears change. I am scattered; he is precise. I am slow to anger; he is quick to anger. I don't really care about details; he notices everything. I used to imagine that angels in heaven would draw a mom card and a baby card, and if the two matched, they would send that baby to that mom. If they didn't match, they would find a different baby. I imagined that the angels chose my card and my son's card, and they laughed and laughed and laughed and one of them said, "let's do it anyway," and they laughed and laughed some more, because the two of us are NOT A MATCH. 

My sweet boy is 8, now, and as delightful as ever. I have always loved his guilelessness, his willingness to forgive, his desire to share. While I believed for years that we are opposites, I have always been very grateful to be his mother. He and my daughter bring me joy untold! However, I have realized that my son is exactly like me.

No, he is not an addict. But he has poor impulse control as a result of mild autism, and of circumstances that have never been in his control. For someone needing structure and predictability, this poor kid's life has been turned upside down more than any child deserves. The divorce was so hard on him, and the constant back-and-forth between homes continues to be very hard on him, even 6 years later. He really does have a rough life in many ways, and I usually fail to give him credit for that. He is different from me, and he's so different from most other kids. He is intelligent and has an exceptional memory. He doesn't like to do sports or even so much play with other kids. His vocabulary is bigger than many 8th graders', and he uses much different terminology than his peers. Often, he flaps his hands when other kids would laugh. At school, he was bullied due to his differences, and that broke my heart. One of the huge reasons I chose to homeschool was to protect my son from those bullies (both students and teachers). I thought he'd be loving life doing school at home, and that he'd change. But, the truth is, he still struggles-- not with the academics, but with just doing what he's supposed to do.

While I'm definitely not grateful for my addiction, I'm very grateful for the lessons I have learned and am learning through recovery. Especially in relation to parenting.

This morning started off pretty rough. Firstly, I am PMS-ing, which sometimes means that I have an unusually short fuse. So when my sweet son began his "I'm not doing school!" tirade this morning, I only tried being nice and reasonable for a short time before his continued outbursts set me off. I reacted poorly, and I yelled at my sweet 8-year-old son. He retreated into himself, and I had solved nothing. I had only made things worse. Still angry, but knowing I needed to calm down before I spoke another ill word to my boy, I sequestered myself to my bedroom and knelt, asking God to forgive me for treating His little child so poorly. Then I asked for help. "How do I reach my son?" I asked Him. "This happens almost every day. How do I reach him in a way that will inspire him to just do what he needs to do?"

And do you know what? Even after I had hardened my heart (toward a little child!), God answered my prayer with a thought: "How do I reach you?" 

So I thought a moment. I thought about why I was angry. I was angry because I felt like a failure. I felt like if I was a good mom, he'd want to do his school. If I was a good mom, he wouldn't yell at me and refuse to do simple things I asked him to do. I was upset because I knew if he just did what I asked, he'd be happier, and successful, and the whole family would be happier. I was angry essentially because he wasn't being obedient. How does Father treat me when I'm not being obedient? I thought about all my years of active addiction. I thought about His responses. I thought about how He made me feel in those times of failure to obey.

Does my Father yell at me in frustration and anger? No, but He is patient, kind, long-suffering. He doesn't remind me of all the ways I am failing; He brings to my mind the things I am still doing right. When I slip, He doesn't give up. When I was "slipping" weekly, and even daily, He did not give up on me. 

And that's what I needed from my Father. I needed patience. I needed love and encouragement. I needed forgiveness. And that's what my son needed from me right now. He's just like me. 

So I called him into my bedroom and asked him a few questions. I told him that he's just like me. I told him I know it's hard to do the things that are right sometimes. I told him that when I don't obey Heavenly Father, I feel miserable. I asked him how he felt in that moment, and I asked him how he felt the other day when he did three days worth of school, which was above and beyond what I'd required him to do. I asked him to compare those two feelings. 

How can I judge my son who struggles with obedience when I struggle with the same thing? How can I even get angry with him when it took me years to finally turn honestly to God? 

I told my sweet boy I love him. I told him I was sorry for yelling. I sang him "our song" and we both wept. It's a perfect song for how I feel about him:

I don't mind your odd behavior

It's the very thing I savor

If you were an ice cream flavor

You would be my favorite one

Oh, I've loved you from the start

In every single way

And more each passing day

You are brighter than the stars

Believe me when I say

It's not about your scars.

It's all about your heart.

And afterward, he hugged me, got up and said, "I'm going to go do school. Love you, Mom." 

After he left my room, I got back on my knees to thank my Father for teaching me how to be a parent, and for giving me, personally, the most merciful and loving example. I thought, "I wonder if I'll have to do this every morning to inspire my son to do school and/or chores, or whatever it is?" And then the answer, "God would do it for me. If I need to, I will have a one on one with my son every morning." And maybe he still won't be inspired. Maybe he'll still choose to fume in his bedroom. Just like Heavenly Father can't make me do what's right, I can't make my son do what's right. But I know one thing. I will never, ever give up on him.