I experience a mix of excitement and relief as my plans fall into place. What starts as a vision in my head is cut to specification and upholstered. The furnishings are shipped, placed, and hung per my direction. I am hired for a specific purpose: to bring beauty and function to the space my client occupies. At the end of our initial planning meeting, my client usually says something like, “Just make it work, Tracy.”
Just make it work.
My client does not want to know the individual measurements of each wall or window. My earlier drafts of furniture layouts with desks and tables situated every which way are not for them to consume. To show my client the marked up plans or multiple shades of beige paint would overwhelm them.
Do I care about their needs? Do I long to please them? Heavens yes. But to place a desk where they suggest does not fit and violates an egress code. I do not expect my client to foresee issues like this, but I know these things have the possibility of occurring. I am the designer running the job. If I say “no” to a client it is for a reason.
Just make it work.
So I do.
The secret behind how I “make it work” is mine to keep.
This designer is finding herself in the shoes of her clients these days…
“The secret things belong to the LORD our God; but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law.” ~Deuteronomy 29:29
My mama’s heart is frustrated and broken. My son will always be perfect to some extent in my eyes, regardless of what the world says.
So I cry out to God, my Abba Father, whom I love. I ask Him to fix my son.
And Abba does nothing.
I do not know what else to do. I cannot fix what is broken. One specialist tried, my son got better, now things are worse. The specialist believes that what is going on may become permanent and follow him into adulthood.
I do not want to believe her. This does not align with the dreams I imagined for my son when I held him in the NICU eight years ago. Today my second grader is smart, becoming a darn good writer, and can play baseball like a boss. In my mind he is supposed to be just like his peers in every way.
But he isn’t anymore and it kills me.
I believe nothing is impossible with God. So why isn’t my son better? Why is Abba silent?
I wish I knew.
It feels like a bunch of unwound spools of ribbon are piling up in my heart. I want to wind them back up and organize the spools of ribbon into neat, little rows. This is what we mamas who “know what is best for our children” are supposed to do.
And yet, I do not know what it best in this instance. Abba’s silence is deafening. The empty spools remain.
I believe the mess of ribbon in my heart does not bother God because He is in the midst of all the empty, dented, cardboard spools. He remains silent because an immediate healing of my son does not fit with the overall design He has planned for my son’s life.
I also know that silence does not mean God is uninterested or uninvolved. Silence is a part of His will too. But God is working. He has a right to keep the specifics of what is coming secret. He has already revealed much in the Bible anyways.
So why do I fret over what is not for me to know when I can rest in that which I do know?
Truth is, God may never heal my son. This is so incredibly difficult to admit and acknowledge. All I see right now is a bunch of tangled ribbon. But I also see my Abba all over the pages of His revealed Word. And based on what I do know, I refuse to stop loving and trusting Him. If He continues to say “no” it is for a reason. God will make “all things work together for the good” of my son because He said He would (Romans 8:28).
As the designer, my clients trust that I am “making it work.” I am in their shoes now, trusting God to do the same though He remains silent. I encourage you, as you reflect on your current season, to rest in what is revealed in the Word of God.
Sometimes Abba will remain silent.
But Abba’s silence, in your life and in mine, means that He is in the midst of “just making it work.”