Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Sometimes it just is what it is.

Wish me luck conveying this.

For the last several weeks I've had a pain under my rib cage. It makes it hurt to get a deep breath, cough, or move. It's nothing severe, or even important, just annoying. But I learned a lesson in it.

I had a dream. And in this dream I dreamed I was standing in a field, and eleven sheaves of wheat bowed down to me... wait... wrong dream.

I dreamed a doctor told me my pain was being caused by a tumor. It might be cancerous, or benign they wouldn't know until they got it out. They weren't going to biopsy it, because he said either way it had to come out because it was growing too large and it was restricting my blood flow so I could have a heart attack if it wasn't removed quickly.
I remember taking the gamble that nothing would happen, and decided to hold off on treatment until my insurance kicked in at my new job.

Some more things happened, and I'm sorry to say it wasn't a good gamble I took. So many things happened that I don't have time or desire to tell you about, but ultimately I woke up stressed out and more tired than when I went to bed (but not on the brink of death anymore, so that was a good thing). A seemingly innocent pain, had suddenly become life-threatening, finance-wrecking, family-destroying disaster. It took a moment for reality to return, but as it did the words came to me: "Sometimes a pain is just a pain."

I get caught up in fixing things. When something breaks, lifes central focus becomes "fix it" and until it's fixed, not much else gets done. It's not a good method for life, because with a little attention a lot of breaks could be prevented, if only I wasn't so focused on fixing one little break to stop the 50 others.
In the same way, when I'm hurting over something, I stop trying to grow, stop trying to learn, and I almost stopped going to church, just waiting for the pain to pass.
I'm not suggesting God told me to accept a mediocre life, accepting pain and hardship as though He had no power over it. But, hearing those words brought me a measure of peace.
He didn't say "Sometimes pain is just a test" or "...a punishment" or even "...what you reap from sowing as badly as you've sowed."

Sometimes a pain is just a pain.

I drive a 97 Nissan Sentra, with a salvage title, and a busted door that lets in a lot of road noise and rain, no tail lights, and an alignment problem that perpetually has me curving to the right. At the moment it's in the shop because it finally gained a problem that stopped it from running. But all those other problems? Didn't stop it a bit. It didn't even slow it down. It's gone, and it's gone, and it's gone.
I've spent a week now driving a sleek, sweet rental car. And as smooth as the ride is, I find myself thinking more and more about my car and how much better it fits me. I've been broken, refixed, and certainly let in a lot of road noise, and without a constant firm hand, I veer off the road even faster than my car does. But I'm still drivable. Just keep me on the road, turn up the radio volume to drown out the road noise (metaphor... just think about it), and point me in the right direction.

Sometimes pain is just pain. It's not there to be controlled, blamed, whined about, fixed, or avoided. It's just there to be felt. And then drive on anyway.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Merry Christmas.

God shows over and over in His word that He's a fan of feasts, holidays, days of rememberance. I wonder what this day means to Him?

Happy Birthday Jesus.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Kudos to you.

To every single single mom, or single dad in the world. Kudos. Kudos to you.
I'm here, temporarily a parent-like person. You though, you, signed up for a lifetime commitment. And when you signed up you might not have been single. Singlehood, or widowhood, may have just been thrust on you.
Some of you maybe thought 17 was a good age to do what you felt ready for, and you rolled the dice hoping that pregnancy wouldn't happen to you. Now, 5 yrs later you're 23 with a 5 yr old. Maybe not regretting, but probably still struggling.
I have the utmost respect for you.
There is question after question, concern after concern and no one to ease the guilt of having caused the tears. And if you've got a teen, there's no one around to tell you that you aren't being unfair and that your teen really doesn't hate you.
There isn't anyone who can tell you you're doing a good job, because you know that only you know the 24/7 story and you're still telling Dr Phil to shut up every time he tells you to "be consistent".
And when the washing machine breaks, the roof leaks, or dinner burns. It's up to you. And not only is it up to you, but little eyes are watching to see what you do too.
Kudos to you, for waking up every day and going at it. For doing all the crazy little things that make life special for your child(ren). For all the lessons that you did teach even when you think nothing is sinking in.
And now, I'm going to let you in on a twisted secret.
Give you child a good, strong, foundation in Jesus Christ. Pray for them. Read to them from the Bible. Tell them all about Jesus and how much He loves them. Teach them about the Holy Spirit, and how He is an ever present help in the time of trouble and joy. Teach them about God, the maker and creator of everything, who sees them, knows them, and loves them so much and will hear their prayers and wants to save their souls.
It's what I do. Over and over again. So hopefully 20 yrs down the road when my child is still recovering from whatever scars she's gained from my random-what-am-I-doing?-parenting, she'll remember that Jesus the Healer can make all things new and heal and use our scars. It's like giving your child a multivitamin because you know you've given them a less than balanced diet.

I could tell you about the special good moments we all know about. The quirky smiles, or the first time you look at their artwork and think "wow, that actually looks like something!", when you're both surprised that the shoe was successfully tied (though you're trying to cover your surprise because you've been saying "You can do it!" for the last 2 hours because the shoe came untied 27 times in the last two hours), and there's also that moment when one of your kids turns around and does something so selfless and kind that you're wondering where they got that sweetness from.

It was you.
Kudos to you every day for the rest of your life.

Consider this my Christmas present to all the single parents:
Jesus doesn't just love your child.
He loves you too.

Sister Harp

Wednesday before last, the call came that a beautiful woman, who had more layers than even me, might not make it through the night.
The next night, Thursday, I stood next to her hospital bed while she told me -not for the first time - that her bags were packed, and she was ready to go. Moments later I watched her cry, then gruffly say she's just having a pity party because she's still here.
In a conversation the night before she was released from the hospital, her desire for her heavenly home was in both our minds when she suddenly turned to me and said, "I'm just gonna praise Him. That's all I can do. I'm just gonna praise Him."
A few days passed and having left the hospital, she spent yesterday (Saturday) at the church with us sticking address labels on some tracts for some gift bags our church would be passing out. She hugged her great-grandchildren who had just arrived from Georgia, and just before she left the church, she got to visit with a grandson who had just arrived also.
She went back to the nursing home because she hates to miss a meal, then she spent the afternoon playing Bingo for the first time, and she won.
Then at 3am this morning she passed away.
It was her lucky day.

She'd lived 78 long and very full years.
I was blessed to have known her.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Out letting.

I've never heard of a writing addiction before, but I think I've got one. I found myself still writing every day, I was just forcing myself to follow my ban. I doubt I'll be back posting my routine Sun-Thurs posts for awhile, but this is my little outlet, so I'm using it.
This post was written Tuesday in a letter, and it's the best I've been able to write so far.


My car died today.
It's going to be in a coma for the next few days until a transplant can be shipped in to revive it. It's funny how my car always seems to die on the day I'm going to get it looked at. My belt has been squealing, so I bought some of the belt dressing stuff to spray on it. Just in case it was an easy fix. The stuff didn't help. But I planned on getting it looked at today. It just didn't last long enough.
Today, Little One had a dentists visit and I had to take off work early to take her to it, and then drop her off at visitation with her parents who I met for the first time today. Her mom is upset with me because Little One called me mama in front of her last week. I had to take a letter to mom explaining why she's calling me mama now, and how it helps Little One cope and encouraging her not to give up all her progress over the discouragement of the irregular visits lately (no visits for the next two weeks because CPS will be closed on visitation days because of holidays and their schedule is too busy to fit her in on another day of the week during the holidays).
Before that happened though, I got a call from Little Ones daycare about two hours before I was suppose to pick her up for the dentist. They says she's got lice. I haven't been checking her because for so long her hair was short and it wasn't an issue. Well, apparently her hair's long enough now. I came home, treated her hair, got her ready for the dentists, and off we went.
To the dentists, (she's got beautiful healthy teeth) then dropped her off at the visit, met bio parents, and a grandma and then drove home to the sound of stuff falling off my car. I made it to union street before the pulley actually fell off and all the lights went on telling me my car was about to die (I can drive it until the battery runs out of juice, but I'm not going to, it'll sit there until it goes to the shop after the transplant pulley comes in).
I pull on an old t-shirt and stick my hair in a pony tail, jack the car up and try and look all car-guyish, to make sure I really did lose a pulley. I did. I came in and made transportation arrangements and Mr Fixit arrangements and asked my dad some car guy questions. Then he asked me alzheimer questions. Like I know the best treatment, or what to do. That's the problem with having the internet and having all the answers to their simple questions. Sometimes they think I can google "how to cure alzeimers" and something will come up. I did. The very first sentence google shows is "there is no cure for alzheimers".

This is going to be a long post.

I know what people mean when they talk of having to decide if they believe what they believe because they believed it or because they'd been told it all their life. I went through that in 2002 when I first moved into my old house. That's where I found my real relationship with God. The deep one that I'm hanging onto right now. I miss Him.

I told someone a couple of months back that when you see/hear so much from the devil, you start searching more to find God just to make it through. I use to be able to find those quiet refreshing times when you could just sit in His presence and not just think things would be ok, but you could almost see it, feel it, sense it, and it wasn't in a way that meant your situations would change. It was just... He's here, so no matter what the situation you know it's going to be ok. Come death, come pain, come car problems, come kid problems, come hospitals, come bills, it's all alright. And when all those things got to you and began to wear you down you could just stop, and stop anywhere, and hear that voice, feel the Master of Peace, and your soul and spirit (though maybe not always your body) would be refreshed.

I complained to someone the other night that there isn't peace anywhere now. It use to be at my fingertips and now it's just... gone. And in it's place is this remarkable sadness. It's how I've come to imagine life will feel when Little One leaves. You keep looking around, expecting it to be there, and it's not and every time you reach for it and find it gone you're more disappointed than the moment before.

There's more, that I just can't write. Just won't write I suppose is the most honest statement. But it's the thing that exhausts me the most and leaves me wondering where God is. The plain answer to where God is is simply "He won't leave you or forsake you, so He's right there." But, reading the bible is like reading letters of a long lost, dearly beloved friend. You just want to see Him, talk to Him yourself, sit and be together. Words on paper just aren't enough.

I remember the movie "The Patriot" with Mel Gibson. This passionate man begins a virtually impossible battle, gets all these forces together, and they follow his grim and deathly determined lead. Only to find themselves going to battle alone, when his son gets killed in battle and he loses heart. All those men standing there, fighting for a cause they do believe in, had less heart because their fierce leader wasn't there. He finally shows up and it's enough to win the battle for them, not necessarily because he did so much but because his presence changed the hearts of the men.

With everything combined going on around me, I feel like one of those men. Without my fearless leader, I'm standing in a battle thinking "I'm going to get creamed, and it will be such a crushing loss that any efforts I extend will be pathetic and insignificant."

If anything, I've started to think of this as a "for the duration" thing. Where you settle down and prepare yourself not for a sprint, but a marathon. And you know you're not in good enough shape to win, but you just hope you haven't lost too much by the time it's over.

I'm not really writing this for answers. I've come to think that maybe there is no answer other than wait - wait on God then keep waiting. Maybe I'm just writing this because I like writing so much it's hard for me not to blog. Maybe I'll skip my ban and blog this.

I didn't write this to complain about the car, or bio parents, lice or even God. I didn't write this for answers or questions. But it certainly feels better to have put it into words. I wish I could talk more like I write. But my mouth doesn't have a backspace button.

When God stoops down.

I came across this tonight and it was too good to not share.
I found it at Steven Furtick's blog on his church "Elevation", a church that apparently meets in school stadiums, and has no permanent location. Yet recently, it's collective members managed to raise 6 million dollars.

His post was titled God stoops down to raise me up.

Psalm 18:35…
You (Lord) stoop down to make me great.

Now that’s some great perspective!
In Psalm 18, David is rattling off a resume of his kingly accomplishments, strengths, and victories. But just to be sure that he doesn’t get carried away with his bad self, he pauses and acknowledges:
“Even the highest human height is the bottom of the barrel of the capability and glory of God. Greatness to me is stooping to Him.”
This is a critical tension for every Christian to hold in balance:God has made me great…But He’s so much greater…that He had to stoop to do it.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

A quote

I read a comment by Mark H and wanted to have it on hand to remember.

But I do know this and can testify to the truth of it: as we keep on
praying, faith and hope continues to rise with every utterance - and declines
with every silence.

Saturday, December 15, 2007


I can't write, and haven't written about where I am at right now, because I haven't been able to put it into words.
It's been months now, since everything got thrown up into the air and I've simply tried to hang on.
A friend that knew I was struggling sent me a link to a sermon by TD Jakes.
I've never been a huge TD Jakes fan, but I listened to every word of the video, and whether you think he's right, or whether you think he's wrong, he described me word for word.

For the last two weeks I've seriously contemplated walking away from church. I say this timidly because my pastor reads this blog and I have no desire to hurt him - I'm sorry Pastor, you've got too much to deal with to be reading this.

But, I've been chained to church mentally. God or no God, I would have continued going to church. I could lose all faith, all hope, all conviction, and I still would have gone to church. Then just a couple of weeks back that chain snapped. And I've had to make a decision every single time the doors open whether or not I would go. My biggest reason for continuing to go so far is primarily because I don't want this time of confusion to end and find myself looking back on how I gave up. I don't want to regret any more than I already do. So I'm still there. But having that chain snap scared me. It made me realize just how far I've gone off the end of everything I've held on to.

And now, I'm hanging onto what I've believed in all my life. Despite the fact that none of it feels true. It feels like God just wandered off the last several months and left me alone to deal with all the chaos that He had me put in my life. First I was angry with Him, for months I grumbled at Him. And now I've climbed down into a sad, quiet little place where I'm just holding onto small fragments of faith and praying that this ends.

I've set aside the illusion that I might come out of this thinking how well I went through it.

I'm holding on, but I have no desire to fill my blog, the record of my walk, with all the groanings I've been doing during this time. I thought I would... a few days ago I posted that you might be surprised at what I posted, only to find myself unable to put it into words. So for now, my blog will be silent. I don't know when I'll come back but it's time for absolute silence until I find my stability.

I believe God is good. And when I say I'm holding on, the belief in His goodness is all I'm holding on to. He'll bring me through. Surely. He's too good not to.
I hope.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

I wonder...

I wonder what I would write about, if I never wrote about God again.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

No post today.

I have nothing to say.
So I'll save you the time of reading several paragraphs of nothing, and simply not post.
Have a nice day.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

A beautiful moment.

It came down a cold drizzle all day long. ALL day long. From the moment I got in the car at 7am, to getting out at 10pm, it drizzled. It was cold, wet, yucky feeling, and had the distinct feel of a wintery fall. People complained about it all day long, the only good thing they could say about it was that "at least it wasn't cold enough to make the roads icy".

Then about 4:30 this afternoon, I glanced out the door.

Directly out the door is a beautiful tree that's changed it's leaves to a vibrant red. Amidst all the clouds, the sun shone just enough to make the world look surprisingly, and stunningly gorgeous, and the most vibrant rainbow shone for less than 5 minutes. I've seen some beautiful summer days, but none that compared to those 5 amazing minutes.

I don't remember ever seeing the world look so very beautiful.

The mist made everything look so clean, shiny, bright with the reflection of that shaft of light coming from the one visible part of the sun. And the clouds kept things muted enough that the small brightness calmed the eyes, rather than strained them with the brightness of the sun.

You couldn't look at it without taking a deep breath.

You wouldn't think that clouds and rain were necessary to make the most beautiful moment imaginable. You'd think that beautiful moment comes when they sky is a beautiful shade of blue, birds are chirping, everything is green or blooming, and it's whatever you believe the perfect temperature should be.

You'd be wrong.

All those things would make an easy day. Free from worries of fog or rain or ice. But it wouldn't offer you a beautiful moment.

If you were choosing though, would you choose the easy day over the beautiful moment?

Monday, December 10, 2007


I went into a building I'd never been in before. I saw a doorway to my right and glanced in the window as I walked past, thinking it must be a small storage room.

Then I noticed they were one right after another on both sides of me.
Then I noticed there was a name on the window of each door.
My heart sunk, and I stop following the people leading me down the corridor, and I peered in the window.
Inside there was a small bed. It was maybe 5 foot long. The entire room altogether was smaller than my bathroom.

It was a prisoners home.

I'd seen these kids, talked to a few of them. Some of them were over 6 ft tall. I couldn't imagine them sleeping on that tiny bed. That bed wasn't even twin sized. It was at best a cot.

It was a prison.

I work in the Human Resource department at a correctional facility for kids ages 11-19. 11 yr old boys go to sleep in that tiny box. I can't get past it.

But I did walk on past it. The staff that guard these prisoners/children are proud of their unit. They keep it clean and orderly and they hosted a dinner for all the staff to come in and join their lunch. Just before we lined up for food though, a large man, who looked a good deal like John Coffee from The Green Mile stood up. And they asked everyone to stand up for the blessing of the food.

As this huge hulk of a man stood there, he humbly thanked God for baby Jesus, and His dying on an old rugged cross for our iniquities, and how thankful he was that we could see Gods love when we all get together to eat like this. And that's nearly quoting him.

And standing in Unit 17/18, I felt the presence of God.

And I thought about Paul and Silas' fellow prisoners that day when Paul and Silas praised God. Sometimes all I see is the prison. I'm sure that's primarily all these kids see in their walls. But occasionally, someone walks into your prison that sets you free even in your chains. It's nothing you've done. You were just fortunate enough to be in the cell next to someone who saw something better than the prison walls. And you're blessed just to have been in the right place, at the right time.

For once, I don't write this with any real connection to myself, but just gratitude that at least the kids on unit 17/18 have this man walking their corridor.

A candid God for a candid person.

A lot has changed over the last few months. A lot. My relationship with God has changed. The changes are hard to describe. The only easy change to point out is the difference between how verbal our relationship use to be. He and I had a very verbal relationship before. It started off with me talking and suddenly merged into conversation. But now I'm finding Him more and more in the silences.

We were told to pray tonight, so I dutifully knelt down and if God had been an actual person, I would be able to say I stared at Him in silence for the next 5 minutes.
I don't actually know how long it was, but almost everyone had quit praying when suddenly I broke my silence with a simple "You've given me more than I can handle."

There wasn't anything else to say. Nothing to add. No complaints, or reasonings, no listing of the burdens or problems, just a simple "It's more than I can handle."
It was enough to get me through. When I stood up the burden was lighter, but I felt a strong check later in the evening from God about the need for me to keep returning to Him. Suddenly
that old poem "I had so much to accomplish, I didn't have time to pray" that ends with "I had so much to accomplish, that I had to take time and pray." - while always understandable - that poem became real to me tonight. Without that time with God, crawling into a deep fulfilling place with Him each and every day, the crazy stress and burdens just pile up until you're literally buried in them, with no hope of daylight in sight.

We (and by 'we' I mean "I") tend to put off the necessity of God. It's easy to say you need salvation, you need God, you need hope, your need peace blah blah blah. Those things are justifiable. Even to the world to some extent. But at some point the need to talk to God has to trump my need to get a couple of loads of laundry done, my need to vacuum the house, my need to read a book to Little One, or play the piano. It would be nice if when that overwhelmed feeling started rising and blocking my airway, if right that moment, everything else got cast into 2nd priority under talking to the only One who can get me safely and sinlessly into the next hour.

I say sinlessly, because once the world climbs onto your shoulders and you attempt to carry it uphill, in the snow, against the wind... lets just say your patient demeanor tends to go down the toilet. You start fighting for every inch. It's like a relay race with Jesus jumping up and down next to you saying "I'll run next!" only you're too busy fighting for another inch to realize you're losing the race because you don't want to take a second to pass the buck to Someone who can take it.

Tonight when I told God He'd given me more than I can handle, He didn't come back with a reassurance that I could handle it. He didn't tell me things would be alright. He didn't tell me people would stop being hurt or that He'd ease the pain. He didn't, at least to my knowledge, work any huge miracle. But, He was there. And it got me through another day.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

A Quote

Nothing against the man, but I just never imagined I'd have occasion to quote him. I was wrong.

"I don't know about you but my faith is like a flickering light. I've just got to remember in the dark what I saw in the light and keep walking." - Mark Lowry


I remember 6 years ago how I struggled for God. In those quiet moments by myself it was tear after tear, where my heart felt like it was being crushed.
I've noticed in the last several weeks that this time feels similar to those early days. I found myself wondering if there was a connection to this and my asking for more of God. To get more of God He's got to break away more of me. And perhaps this is all just part of the painful process.
It's just one of those things I wonder, especially as I find myself praying that this time has a valuable purpose.

I've fought with God. I've yelled at Him, thanked Him, turned my back to Him, and loved Him more intensely than I ever have before. This walk seems more like an hour by hour thing, rather than a day by day thing. I'm glad He's still here with me. Though I've got to admit, I've spent some cautious moments timidly looking towards God wondering if He hated me this time.

In all my struggles I'm afraid that I write too often about the struggle and not enough about how awesome I find God to be. The wonder gets lost in the nitty gritty. And I want to make sure I look back on these times and know how deeply I loved God. Sure I'll see how much it was hurting, sure I'll see that some times I pounded the walls in frustration asking God a thousand and one 'why' questions, but I also want to look back and see that through it all I also sat at His feet and wept for the sheer privilege of knowing Him, experiencing Him, loving Him.
There's a song that I've sung over and over and over because each and every word is true specifically of my life:

When I think about the Lord
How He saved me - (Oh, did He save me)
How He raised me - (Ok, I might look a mess, but He raised me from a miry pit and I am standing because of it)
How He filled me with the Holy Ghost - (a little over a year ago, after seeking it for so long)
How He healed me to the uttermost - (He's still healing me, but He's healed so much already. But when I think of this line I actually remember the time years ago and I had an infection, a visiting preacher came to our church and prayed over me and I felt a burning heat and the pain was gone.)
When I think about the Lord
How He picked me up and turned me around
And set my feet, on solid ground. (6 years ago so much of my time seeking was spent knelt down almost into a ball, crying my eyes out. I've found myself knelt down again lately, but in those months of weeping He picked me up and absolutely turned my life around. And despite everything that I've whined and moaned about, He's set my feet on solid ground.)
It makes me wanna shout!
Thank you Jesus
Lord you're worthy
Of all the Glory
And all the Honor
And all the Praise.

Here's a link if you'd like to hear the song being sung.

He's done a lot for me. God, You've done so much for me. I don't mean to focus so much on the struggle that I forget the victories You've already won for me. I'm sorry.

A friend sent me a link to a video (thank you Lindy) and in the video Mark Lowry is talking about a tornado he survived, and how he would have enjoyed himself a lot more if he'd of known he was going to live through it. And it was a good reminder for me tonight. All these things that are happening around me are but for the blink of Gods eye. The person my heart is breaking for will one day no longer have to endure suffering, but bask in an eternity with God. They're going to live through this, and this pain only lasts a lifetime, and a lifetime is not that long compared to the joy they will have for eternity.

I guess I forget too easily that this lifetime is the short run, not the long run. And in the long run, everything is going to be wonderful.


If you had any idea how many posts I've half written in the last couple of days. I've cried through some as I poured my words out to God, only to find myself all poured out and no way to end the post so I'd just erase it.
Others would find me trying to explain the strange things taking place in my walk only to leave me scratching my head trying to figure out how to make it not sound unChristian. Yes, you read right.
And I've realized that over the months I suppose I fell into writing for an audience. Rather than writing for me. Not to say I want my audience to leave, because I've appreciated the feedback, the advice, the prayers, the encouragement, and the list goes on and on. But especially during this last month I've sat down and instead of writing what was in my heart, I told myself that the little crowd of people who visit either might not agree, understand, or worse yet, they might be discouraged by the up and down emotions of this rocky year.

I still don't know how to explain a lot that has happened but from here on out, my walk is going to be just that - my walk. Brutally honest and candid.

Again, I can't tell you enough how glad I am you read this blog. I've made several very wise friends through this blog that give me confidence that should I ever take a leap from sound doctrine, that I'll be hearing from them. In the next few posts you may very well see that flying leap. So keep watching me, commenting, and most of all, for those that have prayed -keep praying for me.

I look forward to finding each of you in Heaven one day, since it likely won't happen here on earth.


Wednesday, December 05, 2007


What's He want? What am I suppose to do? Why show me hurting people if I can't do anything about it? Why doesn't He do something about it? What was He thinking when He stuck me here? Why didn't He tell me what to do? Why does He persist in showing me so many things that are beyond my ability to fix? How am I suppose to live with what He's let me see? What was the point of it all? Why does He feel so in the picture, when from all appearances it's just God-less chaos? Why doesn't He stop people from being hurt? (Ok, not a fair question.) What is He doing? Was this part of the perfect plan or the allowed plan? And most importantly, why can't He speak audibly for a change?

What does the whole "won't give you more than you can bear" mean anyway? If I walked away from God tomorrow, you wouldn't shake your head at God saying He gave me more than I could bear. If it literally killed me tomorrow, you still wouldn't say God gave me more than I could bear. So what comfort am I actually supposed to get from that?

I don't ask any of this in anger. I just wish I knew the answers. I wish I knew what He meant by all this. Why did He let me know about bad things, if there was nothing that could be done to fix them? I don't get it. I just don't get it.

What on earth is He thinking? What does He want?

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Little One

1pm on a weekday afternoon and I'm at home. That means something is wrong. I've been home since I was called home yesterday by Little Ones day care.
We just returned from the doctor with medicine and it turns out my Little One has strep throat. Her temp just soared again and for the first time in her young life she's calling in sick which means she won't see mommy today.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

God is good.

I just happened across some of my old writings today and I read this paragraph:

I want a bug free life. I want a bug free mind. Peace, real peace doesn't come from running from those bugs the devil has hatched in my mind, but from killing them. And then clinging to the truth. The Truth. For every lie, there is a truth. And I will never find freedom, peace, joy, until I find the truths that God has provided for each lie, and cling.

I came home from church tonight and collected the remains of four bugs off my floor. I've been told they're coming from my neighbors house since he was doing some remodeling. But having just read that paragraph earlier in the day, I couldn't help but think of just how buggy my life really is.

If you've watched my blog this past year, you've seen me bug out, stand up, only to almost immediately bug back out again. Sometimes I'm not even lucky enough to stand up before I bug out again. It's really been a crazy year - in the fullest sense of the term 'crazy'. Maybe that's why my words about finding freedom, peace, and joy meant so much to me as I read them today. Those three things seem ever so elusive.

I want to leave you with one more thought I had in the past:

I believe God is loving, even when I feel unloved. I believe God is just, even when I feel mistreated. I believe God is faithful, even when I feel alone. I believe God is merciful, even when I feel condemned. And I believe God is my comforter, even when I feel overwhelmed by grief

God is good.