Breaking Croissants with the Trinity

A few months ago I read "The Shack" by William Paul Young. I loved his picture of a broken man dining with the trinity. As I recently went through a struggle this picture found its way back into my mind - a whisper of the Spirit. I had found myself, once again, in a waiting place to see how God would unveil his story for me, a part of my story that I couldn't control, so I just had to wait. Parts of the waiting were extremely hard. When decisions linger in my life, especially those related to my friendships and relationships, I find myself aching for the end result.  Most often that aching looks like praying to God in a tirade of endless analyzation.
In my picture of breaking Croissants with the Trinity, this is what I was doing. The Trinity, Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit - some how in a sort of body form - all were sitting at the small dining room table, eating of course. I'm walking around the kitchen in one of my fore mentioned tirades as they calmly listen, but eat on. I slump myself into the last empty chair and stare blankly at their faces, letting it sink in that all of my analyzation will not hurry, change, or reveal to me the outcome. I noticed a smile on all of their faces. "You know the story, don't you?" I said. "Yes," they all replied in perfect unity. "And you are not going to tell me right now are you?" I sigh. They, in unity once more, reply, "Not a chance." There's a slight discomfort in the not knowing, but the trinitarian presence melts even that away within my soul. I might not know what the outcome is, what the story will hold, but see, looking upon their faces, I know it's going to be good. The relationship I have with them is like that of my friends and family who are my trusted family. They love me. I trust them with my life.
A few days later, God did indeed reveal what will at least be the next chapter on this situation in my life. It made me quite sad. I found myself in a state of wanting to question God and demand purpose in his withholding of my desires (Sound Familiar? Good ole' Job). I let what seemed to be anguish and distress flow from my very heart as I curled up in bed and cried for Jesus to hold me. The picture of the trinity and me dining floated back into my awareness. This time I was in anguish, head down, sobbing on the dining room table with no restraints. Their faces weren't  smiling, or accusingly telling me to remember to trust the story, to look for the good. No, their faces were downcast, hurting with me in my pain. Their touch upon my back was that of a nurturing mother.
I know, like in the first picture that God, the three in one, really does have his best in mind for me. But when I feel pain, he doesn't call me to be stronger, or suck it up and remember the truth. In fact, the very essence of knowing the truth, that they love me, allows me to both know the truth but also be completely vulnerable and sit before the living God, sobbing in my pain when he withholds a desire. That is family. That is what I understood growing up - being able to "laugh till your gut hurts or cry over your mashed potatoes" at my family's dining room table. That's the family we are invited into in God's Story.