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A demoralizing point for many family caregivers lies in unmet expectations, hopes, and dreams. We often visualize what could be—but things beyond our control are roadblocks. Ashamedly, I admit to attempting control and trying to force things on more than one occasion—only to frustrate myself, my wife, and (many) others. Letting go of those hopes and expectations, however, can be painful. Over the last few years, I've tried a different approach. In my mind, I envision a rather large container I call "The Box of Things That God Will Have to Redeem."
Offloading those items, losses, heartaches, and disappointment to God reduces my angst and the potential for resentment.
For me, the box is genuine and reflects my faith that God will indeed redeem each of those things—He's better at carrying them than me. Saying that "God will have to redeem" does not demand the Almighty to act; it simply recognizes that He alone has the power to do so. Of course, the temptation to retrieve items and stew on them often grips me. Yet, I can affirm each time I place them back in the box, I grow less tempted to dwell on them.
After decades of trying to carry the impossible, I find I breathe easier and live more peacefully when trusting God with all the broken pieces. Remembering Jesus was a carpenter further bolsters my faith—knowing He doesn't even waste the sawdust.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. —Revelation 21:4 KJV
By Peter Rosenberger4.8
3333 ratings
A demoralizing point for many family caregivers lies in unmet expectations, hopes, and dreams. We often visualize what could be—but things beyond our control are roadblocks. Ashamedly, I admit to attempting control and trying to force things on more than one occasion—only to frustrate myself, my wife, and (many) others. Letting go of those hopes and expectations, however, can be painful. Over the last few years, I've tried a different approach. In my mind, I envision a rather large container I call "The Box of Things That God Will Have to Redeem."
Offloading those items, losses, heartaches, and disappointment to God reduces my angst and the potential for resentment.
For me, the box is genuine and reflects my faith that God will indeed redeem each of those things—He's better at carrying them than me. Saying that "God will have to redeem" does not demand the Almighty to act; it simply recognizes that He alone has the power to do so. Of course, the temptation to retrieve items and stew on them often grips me. Yet, I can affirm each time I place them back in the box, I grow less tempted to dwell on them.
After decades of trying to carry the impossible, I find I breathe easier and live more peacefully when trusting God with all the broken pieces. Remembering Jesus was a carpenter further bolsters my faith—knowing He doesn't even waste the sawdust.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. —Revelation 21:4 KJV

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