I've been thinking a little bit about how our world was when God first created it. We're studying in Genesis right now in my evening Bible Study and this week we looked at creation and specifically Christ in creation. Anyway, one of the verses we looked at told how God gave man every seed bearing plant and fruit bearing tree for food and he gave the animals every green plant for food. So, in other words, everyone, man and beast, were vegetarians. Now I knew this before but for some reason I've been chewing on that verse lately.
I love animals and always have. You've got to keep the strays away from me or I take them in. I have to fast forward through the hunting scenes on the Discovery Channel. I know not everyone feels that way but I can easily imagine Adam and Eve strolling through the garden and enjoying watching all the animals, admiring their beauty, and being amazed by their individuality. I believe that someday, when Christ returns, all living creatures will be restored to that harmony they experienced in the Garden of Eden. Today, I had a large, stray cat on my patio. I couldn't get near him. He was too skittish but I was able to see that he was missing an ear. He's had a hard life and now it's raining and I wonder where he'll take shelter.
What is the point of all this? First of all, it doesn't matter. This is my blog so I can write whatever I want or so my girls tell me. ☺ Seriously, the fact that I worry about poor, stray animals, hurt when my kids hurt, mourn losses, wish for what was, all of that tells me that I am simply longing for the world God intended. I may not always consciously be aware of it but deep inside myself I recognize that things are not as they should be. But, praise God, someday they will be. Someday, no animals will be missing an ear. Someday, no daughters will cry. Someday, no woman will be lonely. Someday, we'll stroll through the garden, watching the animals and talking with our Lord. I can only imagine!
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
What is wrong with me?
Not exactly sure what's wrong with me. My funk that I thought was caused by my water tank problems has lasted far too long. Maybe it is because there are still days when I either fall asleep thinking of Paul or I wake up thinking of him. The other night I even dreamed about him for a minute. I dreamed I was sitting next to him and all of a sudden I turned towards him and said, "Why did you throw me under the bus?" Is that weird or what? But it tells you what is really on my mind. I am struggling again to try to understand the unexplainable. It is an exercise in futility to be sure but one I keep returning to. It's the only exercise I indulge in these days.
I'm tempted to ask the Lord to remove thoughts of Paul from my mind but I am hesitant to do that. What if God answered my prayer and did just that? Not only would it erase Paul from my mind but it would basically eliminate my whole life. I can't remember a time without Paul. So if I can't think about Paul I also can't think about all the good times throughout the years. Somehow I need to learn to be able to remember the past, the good and the bad, and accept it as it is. I'm a great one for telling my girls to accept something, pick themselves up and get over it but I'm not following my own advice.
The Eagles, my all-time favorite band, said it well in their song, Get Over It:
You drag it around like a ball and chain
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin' everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
Get over it
Get over it
It's gotta stop sometime, so why don't you quit
Get over it, get over it
Is that what I'm doing? Wallowing in the pain? Complaining and blaming it on the past? You know, it's possible. I do well at presenting the image of a fairly healthy, functioning adult woman. But when alone it's a different story. I waste time, I wallow, I wonder, I worry. (I always wanted to do that alliteration stuff - you know, like the preachers do in their sermon bullet points. Ah, but I digress. ) Anyway, no matter how much I talk to myself, talk to others, talk to God, the fact remains that life requires work; hard work. And I am not unique.
I heard this week of an acquaintance who just lost her 21 year old son to drugs. How do you deal with that sort of stuff? I know God is in control and offers peace and I've written about that. Writing about it helps me to remember and hopefully helps it get through my thick skull. But I still have to live through it. And so I just keep telling myself, "Hang on!" All of life is a process and sorrow and loss are part of that process. But hopefully, that process is leading me closer to my Creator. If it isn't, it's my bad not God's. He waits for me, so patiently. I think I'm struggling to grab hold of God but in reality, He's already holding me. I've just got to realize that and trust Him. He is my anchor and, unlike my water tank patches, the anchor holds!
I'm tempted to ask the Lord to remove thoughts of Paul from my mind but I am hesitant to do that. What if God answered my prayer and did just that? Not only would it erase Paul from my mind but it would basically eliminate my whole life. I can't remember a time without Paul. So if I can't think about Paul I also can't think about all the good times throughout the years. Somehow I need to learn to be able to remember the past, the good and the bad, and accept it as it is. I'm a great one for telling my girls to accept something, pick themselves up and get over it but I'm not following my own advice.
The Eagles, my all-time favorite band, said it well in their song, Get Over It:
You drag it around like a ball and chain
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin' everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
Get over it
Get over it
It's gotta stop sometime, so why don't you quit
Get over it, get over it
Is that what I'm doing? Wallowing in the pain? Complaining and blaming it on the past? You know, it's possible. I do well at presenting the image of a fairly healthy, functioning adult woman. But when alone it's a different story. I waste time, I wallow, I wonder, I worry. (I always wanted to do that alliteration stuff - you know, like the preachers do in their sermon bullet points. Ah, but I digress. ) Anyway, no matter how much I talk to myself, talk to others, talk to God, the fact remains that life requires work; hard work. And I am not unique.
I heard this week of an acquaintance who just lost her 21 year old son to drugs. How do you deal with that sort of stuff? I know God is in control and offers peace and I've written about that. Writing about it helps me to remember and hopefully helps it get through my thick skull. But I still have to live through it. And so I just keep telling myself, "Hang on!" All of life is a process and sorrow and loss are part of that process. But hopefully, that process is leading me closer to my Creator. If it isn't, it's my bad not God's. He waits for me, so patiently. I think I'm struggling to grab hold of God but in reality, He's already holding me. I've just got to realize that and trust Him. He is my anchor and, unlike my water tank patches, the anchor holds!
Hebrews 6:18-20
New Living Translation (NLT)
18 So God has given both his promise and his oath. These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie. Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. 19 This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary. 20 Jesus has already gone in there for us. He has become our eternal High Priest in the order of Melchizedek.
Friday, March 23, 2012
In Honor of Sarah
Sarah's birthday was yesterday and I found myself reflecting on where the years have gone. As I was cleaning up some stuff today, I came across a story I had written in April of 1999, just about 6 months after Sarah had gotten married. In honor of her birthday, I am sharing this account, just as it was written, 13 years ago.
"Sarah! Come on. It's time to go. We're late." It was November 14, 1998, and it was our oldest daughter Sarah's wedding day. Well, at least, it was supposed to be her wedding day. We couldn't seem to get her ready and out the door. We had started early, too. We had a number of people staying at our house including all the bridesmaids and our friends from Maryland. There were eight women, all needing showers. I asked for volunteers willing to shower on Friday night and then limited the Saturday morning showers to five minutes each. Next, Angelique started doing the bridesmaids' hair. Angelique was the daughter of my good friend, Mercedes, from Santa Barbara. Mercedes and I had met when Angelique was only three years old. How had we gotten from there to here already?
Angelique was in my class at nursery school while her mom worked. Paul and I were newlyweds and often took care of Angelique during the evenings when Mercedes had a late shift. We all got fairly close. When our first daughter was born, we named her Sarah Angelique. I can still see Sarah sleeping in the bassinet that Mercedes loaned us. Sarah's name means "Princess" and we certainly treated her like one. She was the first grandchild on both sides of our family. Everything she did was amazing and extraordinary. So, if she wanted to keep us all waiting on her wedding day, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
Angelique was working hard and fast. After each bridesmaid had her hair done, she moved over to Roz, Sarah's maid of honor, who was doing their make-up. We were saving Sarah for last. Angelique did Sarah's hair, then her make-up, then gave Sarah her wedding jewelry. Angelique had hand-made the jewelry just for Sarah and it was beautiful. It was a set with a necklace and matching earrings of silver teardrops. Finally, it was time to leave for the church. There was one problem, however. Sarah was gorgeous from the neck up and naked from the neck down. It took three of us to get her into her special bra and old fashioned hose. (We all lacked experience with garters.) "We're supposed to be getting pictures taken right now," I said. I was beginning to panic. Sarah had always had a mind of her own and operated on her own time schedule.
I remember when she was four years old. She had been outside playing on our jungle gym. She marched in and announced to me "I just asked Jesus into my heart." No fanfare, no discussion, no adult assistance. She had made up her mind and acted on it. We went on a family vacation when she was thirteen. We visited relatives in Washington and then came back to Oregon to stay with our good friends there. Sarah didn't really want to be on vacation with us at all, but we made her visit the relatives and spend a day or two in Oregon. Then, all by herself, she took the train back to Santa Barbara where her Nana and Papa were waiting for her. It was a twenty-seven hour trip. I don't think I would have considered letting either of our other two daughters make such a trip at that age. Then came the day we learned we would be moving to Paso Robles. Sarah was seventeen and a senior in high school. We would be moving at the end of the school year. "I won't be going with you to that hick town," she told us. And she didn't. Not until a year and a half later, her choice, and on her own time schedule.
"Everybody, into the cars. We have got to go now!" I was starting to sound like a drill sergeant but at least people began to move. Slowly, cars pulled out of our driveway and headed for the church, twenty minutes away. We had to skip the pictures scheduled to be taken before the wedding. Things moved quickly after that. Sarah was in her dress, Mercedes put on the veil that she had made for her, and we were lining up in the hallway. My handsome husband escorted me to my seat and then I proudly watched Melissa and Jenny, my other two daughters and both bridesmaids, come down the aisle. And then there stood Sarah and her daddy. This independent, strong-willed woman now clung to her father's arm and cried. The wedding was over before we knew it, just like Sarah's childhood - long anticipated, then gone in a flash.
"Sarah! Come on. It's time to go. We're late." It was November 14, 1998, and it was our oldest daughter Sarah's wedding day. Well, at least, it was supposed to be her wedding day. We couldn't seem to get her ready and out the door. We had started early, too. We had a number of people staying at our house including all the bridesmaids and our friends from Maryland. There were eight women, all needing showers. I asked for volunteers willing to shower on Friday night and then limited the Saturday morning showers to five minutes each. Next, Angelique started doing the bridesmaids' hair. Angelique was the daughter of my good friend, Mercedes, from Santa Barbara. Mercedes and I had met when Angelique was only three years old. How had we gotten from there to here already?
Angelique was in my class at nursery school while her mom worked. Paul and I were newlyweds and often took care of Angelique during the evenings when Mercedes had a late shift. We all got fairly close. When our first daughter was born, we named her Sarah Angelique. I can still see Sarah sleeping in the bassinet that Mercedes loaned us. Sarah's name means "Princess" and we certainly treated her like one. She was the first grandchild on both sides of our family. Everything she did was amazing and extraordinary. So, if she wanted to keep us all waiting on her wedding day, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
Angelique was working hard and fast. After each bridesmaid had her hair done, she moved over to Roz, Sarah's maid of honor, who was doing their make-up. We were saving Sarah for last. Angelique did Sarah's hair, then her make-up, then gave Sarah her wedding jewelry. Angelique had hand-made the jewelry just for Sarah and it was beautiful. It was a set with a necklace and matching earrings of silver teardrops. Finally, it was time to leave for the church. There was one problem, however. Sarah was gorgeous from the neck up and naked from the neck down. It took three of us to get her into her special bra and old fashioned hose. (We all lacked experience with garters.) "We're supposed to be getting pictures taken right now," I said. I was beginning to panic. Sarah had always had a mind of her own and operated on her own time schedule.
I remember when she was four years old. She had been outside playing on our jungle gym. She marched in and announced to me "I just asked Jesus into my heart." No fanfare, no discussion, no adult assistance. She had made up her mind and acted on it. We went on a family vacation when she was thirteen. We visited relatives in Washington and then came back to Oregon to stay with our good friends there. Sarah didn't really want to be on vacation with us at all, but we made her visit the relatives and spend a day or two in Oregon. Then, all by herself, she took the train back to Santa Barbara where her Nana and Papa were waiting for her. It was a twenty-seven hour trip. I don't think I would have considered letting either of our other two daughters make such a trip at that age. Then came the day we learned we would be moving to Paso Robles. Sarah was seventeen and a senior in high school. We would be moving at the end of the school year. "I won't be going with you to that hick town," she told us. And she didn't. Not until a year and a half later, her choice, and on her own time schedule.
"Everybody, into the cars. We have got to go now!" I was starting to sound like a drill sergeant but at least people began to move. Slowly, cars pulled out of our driveway and headed for the church, twenty minutes away. We had to skip the pictures scheduled to be taken before the wedding. Things moved quickly after that. Sarah was in her dress, Mercedes put on the veil that she had made for her, and we were lining up in the hallway. My handsome husband escorted me to my seat and then I proudly watched Melissa and Jenny, my other two daughters and both bridesmaids, come down the aisle. And then there stood Sarah and her daddy. This independent, strong-willed woman now clung to her father's arm and cried. The wedding was over before we knew it, just like Sarah's childhood - long anticipated, then gone in a flash.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Funks
It's funny. It doesn't seem to take much to get me in a funk sometimes. Last weekend, for some odd reason, I tromped up to the water storage tank. It's in the upper orchard area and can't be seen from the house or driveway. I think I went to pick a few lemons and while I was up there, I decided to check the tank. Sure enough, I found about four very small but very definite leaks. Everything is original around here which means that the tank is of the 1985 vintage. So there I was, last Sunday afternoon, in the cold, trying to patch the tank with J-B Weld. I knew it needed to be dry in order to stick but I tried anyway and you know what I was thinking? "This is a man's job!" But of course, the man is MIA so it's me. Now, I'm a pretty handy woman and there is no reason why I can't take care of some of this stuff. It was just the principle of the thing, you know? And for a short time, I gave in to the temptation of anger and blame.
When it became apparent that the J-B Weld was not going to stick on the wet tank (duh) I decided to turn the well pump off, use up most of the water until the water level dipped below the leaks, patch, let dry, turn pump back on, and voila! Water again, hopefully within a day or so. Good plan, I thought. I really had no idea how long it would take for us to use up that much water but the tank looks giant to me so I turned the pump off Sunday night. I was hoping that we'd have water for the next four days or so and that I could do my repairs on the weekend when I didn't have to worry about getting a shower before work. Again, good plan, I thought. However, when did we run out of water? Tonight! During Bible Study. After only two days. I came home in a funk.
I grabbed a flashlight, put on my boots and once again tromped up into the orchard. Finally, it occurred to me that I was on dangerous ground, attitude wise, and that I'd better take a minute to pray. I asked the Lord to help me not blame the leaks on a guy who hasn't even been around for two + years. After all, things wear out. I can't blame everything on him. I realized how selfish and spoiled I am. At this point, I hadn't had water for a whole two hours but I'd gone into survival mode like it was going to last forever. I checked out the tank again, decided that I couldn't attempt to patch it by flashlight late at night, gave up and turned the well pump back on. We'll have water by morning and I'll shut it off in a day or two and try again.
All the while, I knew this was a small problem; a minor setback. Why did it put me into such a funk? I'm still pondering that but I think that I do pretty well in the larger dramas of life but it's the little things that trip me up. Satan is well aware of that as well. I don't guard myself adequately. I'm either relying on my own abilities to take care of all the little details of life and forget to bring God into the equation, or perhaps I get worn down by some of the bigger difficulties that I've experienced and even though I've gotten through them with the Lord's help, I fail to realize how depleted my strength is and so I am easy prey for an invitation to a pity party. Shame on me. I should know better.
All this random blathering on about the well...and what is my conclusion? I think I need to praise God for these smallish problems because they draw my attention to weaknesses in myself and shift my focus just a little more towards my Creator. And every time God allows me to gain a small victory over my sinful, selfish tendencies, He prepares me a little more for those larger dramas of life that are sure to come. Thank you, Lord. I will be in the orchard again this weekend, again without water, again attempting a patch job. I'm hoping and praying that my attitude will be totally different this time and I'm grateful that God is giving me a second chance.
When it became apparent that the J-B Weld was not going to stick on the wet tank (duh) I decided to turn the well pump off, use up most of the water until the water level dipped below the leaks, patch, let dry, turn pump back on, and voila! Water again, hopefully within a day or so. Good plan, I thought. I really had no idea how long it would take for us to use up that much water but the tank looks giant to me so I turned the pump off Sunday night. I was hoping that we'd have water for the next four days or so and that I could do my repairs on the weekend when I didn't have to worry about getting a shower before work. Again, good plan, I thought. However, when did we run out of water? Tonight! During Bible Study. After only two days. I came home in a funk.
I grabbed a flashlight, put on my boots and once again tromped up into the orchard. Finally, it occurred to me that I was on dangerous ground, attitude wise, and that I'd better take a minute to pray. I asked the Lord to help me not blame the leaks on a guy who hasn't even been around for two + years. After all, things wear out. I can't blame everything on him. I realized how selfish and spoiled I am. At this point, I hadn't had water for a whole two hours but I'd gone into survival mode like it was going to last forever. I checked out the tank again, decided that I couldn't attempt to patch it by flashlight late at night, gave up and turned the well pump back on. We'll have water by morning and I'll shut it off in a day or two and try again.
All the while, I knew this was a small problem; a minor setback. Why did it put me into such a funk? I'm still pondering that but I think that I do pretty well in the larger dramas of life but it's the little things that trip me up. Satan is well aware of that as well. I don't guard myself adequately. I'm either relying on my own abilities to take care of all the little details of life and forget to bring God into the equation, or perhaps I get worn down by some of the bigger difficulties that I've experienced and even though I've gotten through them with the Lord's help, I fail to realize how depleted my strength is and so I am easy prey for an invitation to a pity party. Shame on me. I should know better.
All this random blathering on about the well...and what is my conclusion? I think I need to praise God for these smallish problems because they draw my attention to weaknesses in myself and shift my focus just a little more towards my Creator. And every time God allows me to gain a small victory over my sinful, selfish tendencies, He prepares me a little more for those larger dramas of life that are sure to come. Thank you, Lord. I will be in the orchard again this weekend, again without water, again attempting a patch job. I'm hoping and praying that my attitude will be totally different this time and I'm grateful that God is giving me a second chance.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Tops of 2011
The most popular magazine in my office waiting room is "People" and occasionally, during my lunch hour, I will indulge. I was flipping through one of the December issues and found an article entitled "Tops of 2011". I was curious to see how current I was so I began reading. It was actually a group of lists, the first of which was "Top 10 Box Office Champs". You know, the top movies. Guess how many of them I had seen. Uh, zero. Not a one. O.K. Moving on to "iTunes Most Popular Songs". Again, zero. Let's try "Top 10 Bestsellers". I am, after all, a voracious reader. Yea!! I had read one of the books, "The Help". I'm on a roll now. "Most Increase in Twitter Followers". Really? I don't Twitter, don't even know how I would even try to Twitter and would feel like a twit if I ever did Twitter. At least I recognized some of the names on the Twitter list. But who the heck is Bruno Mars? Lastly, "Most Watched TV Shows". Again, you guessed it, none. I came close here, though. NCIS was on the list and I have seen it several times but I felt I could hardly count that since I don't watch it regularly. Or even irregularly, for that matter. So, out of a list of 50 top items for 2011, I got a grand score of 1. 1.5 if you give me credit for watching at least one NCIS. I am crushed. I like to consider myself as someone fairly hip for my advanced age. This was a humbling exercise. I think I'll go watch "The Twilight Saga" and then read "Water for Elephants" while listening to "E.T." and recording "Dancing With the Stars" for later. As for the Twittering thing? Hopeless.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Crafting for Jen's Birthday
Jenny's birthday was this past Saturday and I had fun this year making her a few things.
It's a little hard to tell but this is a growth chart that I made, copied some from an idea I saw on Pinterest. It's a board that starts at 2 feet and goes up to 6 feet. I stained it and then transferred all those precious marks that were on one of my doorjambs, showing how tall the kids were at various ages. You mount it on the wall and mark on it instead of your wall. And, if you ever move, you can take it with you. While I was at it, I made one for myself.
I also made her a felt pincushion and a reversible apron. (I had to make the apron. She saw the vegetable print material in my stash and specifically asked for it. ☺ )
It felt good to get back to a little creativity!
It's a little hard to tell but this is a growth chart that I made, copied some from an idea I saw on Pinterest. It's a board that starts at 2 feet and goes up to 6 feet. I stained it and then transferred all those precious marks that were on one of my doorjambs, showing how tall the kids were at various ages. You mount it on the wall and mark on it instead of your wall. And, if you ever move, you can take it with you. While I was at it, I made one for myself.
I also made her a felt pincushion and a reversible apron. (I had to make the apron. She saw the vegetable print material in my stash and specifically asked for it. ☺ )
It felt good to get back to a little creativity!
Friday, March 2, 2012
Who's the Boss?
I've been thinking a lot lately about what my life looks like and what God wants for me and from me. It's a natural human tendency to fight against pain. We don't want pain, we don't like it, we shy away from it. Who in their right mind would embrace pain? Even when I was having my girls I was not into pain. Like many of my generation, I gave birth three times without so much as an aspirin. By the time I was pregnant with Melissa I was ready to meet the local drug dealer around the corner from our house. Oh sure, the end result was great but the process? Unfortunately, so often in life, the good comes after a long bout with the bad. I think it's O.K. not to want to experience the suffering that life brings but if I cross over the line and begin to question the wisdom of God, His timing, His will for my life, or His right to order my life, then I have elevated myself above Him and I am in trouble! Look around. I certainly do not have the exclusive rights to difficulties. We are surrounded by illness, death, alienation between family members, loss, financial problems, abandonment, disappointment and disillusionment. As long as we live in this corrupt world we will suffer.
The last couple of years have been especially tough for me and I not only grieve my own losses, but I ache for my girls, my dad, my brother, my friends. There are times when I think I just cannot hear of one more problem, not one more sad thing. (Consequently, today it is past noon and I am still in my P.J.s and I plan to remain that way.) I haven't been questioning God exactly, but I have been battling the fog and darkness that suffering seems to bring - wanting things to change, to be different, to be what I want or to be like they used to be. God didn't create us for suffering and death and we will always strive against it. Until He restores our world to the way He originally intended it to be, we will experience conflict. Somehow, I have to accept that. But I also must submit to Him and trust that He has filtered everything through His loving hands.
When my girls suffer, I suffer. I long to fix everything in their lives and make it all smooth and wonderful. I often forget that God knows how I feel. I forget that He is my Father in every sense of the word. He watches His children (me!) rebel against Him, make poor choices, suffer from the sins of others, fight with each other, hold grudges, lose loved ones or lose hope. It breaks His heart. He truly does understand my pain. I guess the difference, to me, is that He could do something about that pain if He chose to and sometimes He does. Me? I am essentially helpless to effect real change. I can't raise the dead, heal the sick, or soften a heart. Only He can. And sometimes He doesn't. How do I reconcile that knowledge? How do I accept His sovereignty? Or maybe a more accurate question would be to what degree do I accept His sovereignty? Webster defines sovereignty as "supreme power, freedom from external control". He is the top dog, the big kahuna, the chief, the CEO, the head honcho, the KING! He is the Boss. Yes, I suffer. Yes, I wonder. But isn't it freeing to be able to accept that I don't have to know it all? Isn't it life altering to realize that I cannot fix everything, protect everyone, or spare myself?
He is worth it all!! When I get to the end of my life, all the suffering of my years will fade completely away and I will finally rest completely in Him. I know that peace is available to me even now. It's just harder for me to access because of my own shortcomings. Sometimes things can't be repaired and that is going to hurt. But not forever. Praise God!
"The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing" (Zephaniah 3:17).
The last couple of years have been especially tough for me and I not only grieve my own losses, but I ache for my girls, my dad, my brother, my friends. There are times when I think I just cannot hear of one more problem, not one more sad thing. (Consequently, today it is past noon and I am still in my P.J.s and I plan to remain that way.) I haven't been questioning God exactly, but I have been battling the fog and darkness that suffering seems to bring - wanting things to change, to be different, to be what I want or to be like they used to be. God didn't create us for suffering and death and we will always strive against it. Until He restores our world to the way He originally intended it to be, we will experience conflict. Somehow, I have to accept that. But I also must submit to Him and trust that He has filtered everything through His loving hands.
When my girls suffer, I suffer. I long to fix everything in their lives and make it all smooth and wonderful. I often forget that God knows how I feel. I forget that He is my Father in every sense of the word. He watches His children (me!) rebel against Him, make poor choices, suffer from the sins of others, fight with each other, hold grudges, lose loved ones or lose hope. It breaks His heart. He truly does understand my pain. I guess the difference, to me, is that He could do something about that pain if He chose to and sometimes He does. Me? I am essentially helpless to effect real change. I can't raise the dead, heal the sick, or soften a heart. Only He can. And sometimes He doesn't. How do I reconcile that knowledge? How do I accept His sovereignty? Or maybe a more accurate question would be to what degree do I accept His sovereignty? Webster defines sovereignty as "supreme power, freedom from external control". He is the top dog, the big kahuna, the chief, the CEO, the head honcho, the KING! He is the Boss. Yes, I suffer. Yes, I wonder. But isn't it freeing to be able to accept that I don't have to know it all? Isn't it life altering to realize that I cannot fix everything, protect everyone, or spare myself?
He is worth it all!! When I get to the end of my life, all the suffering of my years will fade completely away and I will finally rest completely in Him. I know that peace is available to me even now. It's just harder for me to access because of my own shortcomings. Sometimes things can't be repaired and that is going to hurt. But not forever. Praise God!
"The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing" (Zephaniah 3:17).
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