The Fixer

I’m a fixer.   I love puzzles (as long as they are reasonably solvable and not like a Rubix cube).  I hate sitting still.  I am always looking for a problem to solve.  Mystery books were my bread and butter growing up.  I love taking care of people, helping them, mothering them.  My first victim was my little sister but she eventually outgrew me so finally, I decided to make a career out of it by becoming a nurse.  Then came motherhood and finally a life overseas where I find myself regularly taking in new arrivals and helping them navigate this funny place we call home.   

The trouble is that I can’t fix everything.  And that is where I am stuck.  I am up against a wall that has smacked me in the face with a speed and intensity that I never saw coming.  Someone trusted me, and I failed.  I thought I was helping them and supporting them.   I was trying to do the right thing.  But then the wall all came crashing down and here I sit in the middle of the shattered mess wading my way through how we got here.  All the love I offered, the physical help I gave, and my limited knowledge got us……..to this mess.  Without intending to, I think I allowed someone……… to trust me.  And the problem with that is that I’m not trustworthy.  I don’t have all the answers.  I don’t have enough love or time to go around to all the people that want it.  I make mistakes.  I didn’t see it for what it was at the time, and the advice I offered, help I gave, the love I extended wasn’t meant to replace what was truly needed either physically or emotionally.  But maybe that’s how it was taken. 

So here I sit, frustrated, and a little devastated by my complete inability to fix this situation.  And, if I’m really honest, I’m frustrated by my inability to be the Savior.  Brokenhearted that without meaning to, my help, support, and love may have been part of what pushed us here.  And there is nothing that I can do to get us out of it: nothing at all. 



The truth is there is only one Messiah.   It’s not me.  I find deep irony (and also comfort) in the fact that we are entering the season of Advent and then Christmas.  In the midst of my agony this week, as I wept and mourned, and poured my heart out to God, we also pulled out the Advent Calendars and set up the nativity scenes.  December 1st is coming and my children know it.  They want to be ready.  The excitement is building, the anticipation is great, and on Friday we will begin our 24 day wait for the arrival of THE Messiah.  Of course we know that he’s already come and so on Christmas we will celebrate with deep joy the fact that His first coming signaled the beginning of our rescue.  But the story isn’t over, and we are still waiting for His final return, our great and final rescue:  the last chapter of this story, and the beginning of our endless adventure in His presence.  Advent helps us to fix our heart on that sure hope.  “Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.”  I need that Messiah.  My whole being is aching for Him.  I need a rescue, from myself, from my sin, and from this broken world.  Everywhere I look I see the brokenness.  It leaves nothing untouched.  Everyone disappoints us.  Nothing lasts.  Our own brokenness is constantly getting in the way of anything lasting, anything good, anything trustworthy.  Even my best efforts with my best intentions fall short, fail, and disappoint.  I need a Messiah.  I need THE MESSIAH.  Praise God He has come.  Praise God He is coming again.  In HIM is hope.  In HIM is truth.  In HIM is life.  HE is what my soul is longing for, and in HIM is the only good and the only hope that I can offer.  I can’t fix anything, but HE fixes everything.  

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