Give Me Some Sugar

I have been off caffeine since June.  It was, and is, worth it.  I knew the next big hurdle would be sugar.  In late January and early February, I took a stab at quitting.  Right before Valentine’s Day.  That was just careless.

It stayed in front of me.  I knew I still needed to do it.  I know this sounds strange to say, but it seemed there was no jumping off point.  Then, there was.

Lent.

The Lenten Fast.

BOOM!

I quit sweets.  Not all the foods that have any ingredient that’s just sugar with a cute name.  Just sweets.

It only took a few days to come face to face with my need of a Savior.  I felt desperate.  I lied about what I ate.  (They don’t care, and Jesus already knows.)  I cheated like a card sharp in the old west.  I let myself slip.  A lot.

I realized I felt I couldn’t live without sugar (People do.  It isn’t air.).  Then I realized there are a lot of things I can’t live without

And.

There are a lot of things I have been saying I can live without…that I can’t.

BOOM.

Yes, I have a lot of idols.  (Anything you feel you can’t live without.)  I’m also holding myself prisoner in a lot of ways, too.  Depriving myself of things God says are good. Going hungry at my Father’s table.  Thirsty, at the source of Living Water.

Who do I think I am?

Imagine you provide delicious food for your child and she sits in the chair and feels the hunger pains and doesn’t eat.

How does that make you feel?

Really freaking sad. Right?

You love her and you want her to be healthy and you want her to enjoy the things that you provide with just her in mind.

That may be confusing, but I’m not talking about the sugar anymore.

I’m talking about seeing my need of a Savior.

Seeing how much the Father loves me.

About nothing I could have anticipated or imagined.

 

~disclaimer:  I’m uncomfortable writing while in the middle because I’m not sure that you’re supposed to talk about the things you do spiritually.  But I felt led for some reason today.  And Lent is not in the Bible.  It’s a church observance.  So… Please forgive my continued clumsiness, in any case.~

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Up

Growing up is when you stop expecting people to already know what you are thinking.

Growing up is when you realize the laundry not being done is as much your problem as anyone else’s in the house.

Growing up is when you can admit you don’t know something.

Growing up is when you ask someone who knows better than you do.

Growing up is when you can trust their answer and use it.

Growing up is when you know what you like and don’t let your friends talk you into something else.

Whether that’s fashion or boys or food or colleges.

Growing up is when you can clean up another person’s vomit without having a holiday named in your honor.  Some people do this.  Some never ever do.

Growing up is when you take personal responsibility for turning off lights and water and closing doors and putting the leftovers away before they become a biohazard.

Growing up is when you realize that if you shouldn’t complain about a mess you aren’t willing to clean up.

Growing up is when you realize that if you aren’t willing to clean it up, you don’t really care.  You are a bitchy slob.

Growing up is when you realize that life isn’t a contest to see who can do the least.

Growing up is when you stop needing your mom to nag you to feel like you have permission to do the tasks that belong to you.

Growing up is when you keep loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

Just because God gave them to you.

Growing up is when you know that love doesn’t mean hanging out.

Growing up is when you have been lied to and lied about and you don’t demand apologies.

Growing up is when you are willing to wait to let the truth come out.  The easy way or the hard way.  The other person gets to choose.

Growing up is when you live with the hurt and pray for the other person to heal and have the best life God can make for them.  Without you.

And you let God be God while the pain sizzles, knowing He wastes nothing.  He’s growing something beautiful in you.

Growing up is when you get that Christmas isn’t presents and love isn’t kisses.

Growing up is when you learn to wait your turn.

Because it’s coming.

 

 

 

 

What To Do About Anger

Like I would know.

Very complex life experiences.

I need a mom to lean on, too.

God didn’t give me that mom.

In His beautiful, holy, grace; he made me that mom.

But I am helpless, hopeless, hurt and hobbling.

I have no good answers.

No timeline.

No authority to speak into the lives of people around me.

Who would listen anyway?

It’s only Maggie.

I can only get out half the thought.

Because I’m trying to condense, I cut out volume.  Miss meaning.

Only a few understand, yet it’s not their situation.

I am empty.

Falling.

Need a word, that isn’t forthcoming.

It’s said, that God trusts us in His silence.

He must be about to speak, because there isn’t anything left of me to go on.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Not Gonna Lie

I’m offended.

Those are really hard words to say.  I don’t know why, but I realized day before yesterday, that I had been trying to fight it out with myself.  Taking both sides (I don’t know the other person’s side).  I think it’s been so long, since I was able to admit I had been treated disrespectfully by someone I cared about, that I don’t know how to approach it.  Call it what it is.  Deal with it appropriately.

Move on.

I am a doofus.  Incredibly awkward.  Probably an acquired taste.  In my usual style, I thought, “This is not a big deal.  All I have to do is quick state my position. And be done.” In my haste, and because I wasn’t more judicious in my behavior, this person proceeded to shut me down.

Only I didn’t even realize it.

At first.

I could make a lot of excuses here.

There’s a 99.9% chance that I said something other than I meant.

But the other person said some things that were illogical to the most simple mind.  Some unbiblical things.  Some legalistic things.  Some shockingly insulting-by-implication things.

Pleasantly, to be sure.  Not like a friend.  Like a person who knows they are talking to someone with less understanding.

There are a lot of things I’d like to say back. But it wouldn’t do any good.

I mean, it might.  But based on the way it was handled, I don’t think I would be heard.

If I had waited on God before, it would have mattered.

But I went against the still, small voice and with an audible one.

So now, I am retreating.  Letting the wound wait.  Seeing if it will heal on its own.  Struggling with the idea that when you mess a beautiful thing up, rushing in to cover it may not be the best idea.  Maybe, you need to step back and see if it can become part of the work.  Intervening only in the least measure.  Using a delicate touch.

I get to do the hurting.  I hope the other party isn’t hurt.

!@#$%

I don’t have a right to be acknowledged.  I don’t have a right to be understood or to have my agenda be met.  Those are privileges.  Luxuries even.

I want to see great things from God.  And that always means to “seek peace and pursue it.”  To seek healthy relationships.

I have no idea what to do.  Letting go doesn’t always mean walking away.  Sometimes it means walking back into the line of fire.

 

 

Wherever You Are

Dear Birth Mother,

I hope this finds you well.  The weather here is fine.

It’s a beautiful, awful day.

I am thinking of you and the selfless life-changing decision you made.  Of your stated reasons.  And the ones you will never tell.

And what I know is true about us moms.

You are thinking of us today.  Of the promise you trusted in, that someone would love your child with their unique needs.

No matter how fantastic the celebration, you’ll wonder what’s up with us.  I’m getting the recognition for how these guys turned out.

Well.  I need to let you know.

Most days, I am pretty sure that anything good in them is all you.

They are amazing.

They stop people in their tracks.

They move in incredible natural gifts.

They make the issues unavoidable.

Your decision changed your life forever, but if I may say.  It keeps on changing lives. More than I can count. Every day.

Wherever you are, I honor you.

With love.  Fearless.  Like yours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Heartbreak Imperative

I imagine Adam and Eve must have discussed  news, weather, and sports, before they began hiding from God and each other and speaking in vaguenesses and riddles.  No cooking or cleaning or who’s going to take the kids to practice.  Just how many goats were born and how many peaches in a pie.

*yawn*

I can’t imagine a world without conflict.  A job to do; no problems to solve.  How would that even work?

It’s immaterial.

Adam ate the fruit.  (Eve was deceived.  Adam went willingly.  No Buick necessary.)  The world and the human race were altered forever.

What we have now is a broken world full of people who, while created in the image of God, hunger and thirst and grasp for things that are not offered. Refusing the bounty before them, they seek more.  More power. More pleasure. More promise.  Just more.

It isn’t ugly most of the time.  Often it’s pitiful.  Sometimes it’s poetic. Mainly, it is a pedestrian pursuit of equality or “fairness”in comparison with our peers.  Ick.

Once we were broken.  Once we were ashamed.  Once we were isolated from God and each other, life became a battle to reclaim the unbroken and unashamed.  To know and be fully known.  To rest satisfied and to trust intimately.

More frightening and thrilling than extreme sports or stalking celebrities, is the practice of some odd souls to seek a deeply satisfying everyday existence.  Working to live…not living to work.  Being present for their kids.  Teaching those kids what they believe.  Telling them what’s right and wrong.  Trying to set an example of living graciously and by grace.  Loving their spouses–dare I say, sacrificially.

The risk is not, typically, being dashed on the rocks below or a felony conviction.

The risk is heartbreak.

From the cradle to the grave.  There are those who seem always to be doing it right and getting handed both ends of a too short stick.

Too much pain.  Too much loss.  Too much grief.

Too much.

There are those who are fearlessly, bravely, recklessly, deliberately, obediently walking onto the battlefield.

We look at them and wonder if we could handle that kind of heartbreak.

There have been times in my life, I’ve wondered if God creates certain people to be vessels to carry pain.  They grieve on behalf of many. They are to feel the pain, so that those who couldn’t handle it can pass by unscathed.

It’s been clear to me for many years, that God also trusts some of us with trials that would crush another.

He trusts me with these trials.  No need to be jealous of another’s…I couldn’t handle them.  In reality, there isn’t anyone else’s I know well enough to make that kind of call anyway.

Rambling?  Sorry.

We have hearts.

Before the fall, no biggie. Unbroken fellowship.  Nekkid intimacy.

After the fall, an eternal quest to plug into an ever-craving heart, anything and everything that doesn’t satisfy. It feels good and slowly kills us (like me and a nice Rx).  When we do figure out it’s only relational intimacy that will do, we then face the challenge of behaving for the other’s best without getting hurt.  A version of football’s “Prevent Defense”.

Eventually, we find that doesn’t work.

We have hearts.  If we are to be obedient stewards of them, we must step into life without our armor.  In order to fully live, we must have our eyes open.  Follow the rules of the game, no matter how hard it gets.  When we suffer a break, we know we are moving towards victory.

Yes, you heard me.

When we do right and get hurt, it’s a sign we’re using this heart, created in God’s image, the way it was designed to be used.

God doesn’t let on much about His heartbreaks.  His kids are a continual source of pain.  We throw his gifts in His face.  We disobey and get hurt.   He wants more for us. He wants unbroken intimacy with us and gets foolishness from us instead. He doesn’t put the focus on His desire, but on our safety, quite frankly. Even, more, on the security and satisfaction of our souls.

There is not a heartbreak we bear that doesn’t display His image on us.  His plan from the beginning has been for us to illustrate Him to those around us.

Remember photo negatives?  When you held them to the light, you could see a distorted vision of the actual.  After the developing process, the real picture was revealed.

One moment in time held up to the light.  Still, indistinct until the process is complete.

Ugly, until then.

Potentially exquisite.

What do they call it then?

Proof.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prescription for Trust

It’s frightening to be diagnosed with something real.  It’s more frightening to stop eating and sleeping and know you should both eat and sleep, but not feel the hunger or the exhaustion.  Still more terrifying, is to have felt a moment of sheer joy…

And lose it in a chemical cocktail…  The first prescription locked me out at the top of the range of emotion and focus and energy.  The second, has me locked out at the bottom.

I can’t think about myself.  I sat in a conversation the other day, and I couldn’t take the question: “What is God emptying you of and what is He filling you with?”; and apply it to myself.  I could understand the answers others gave, but I couldn’t answer it for myself.

I apologized to my sisters for sitting in silence in a very personal and vulnerable conversation(as I am typically a sharer, a feeder back and a verbal processor); because I didn’t want my silence to be attributed to anger or offense.  And I began to cry.  Well, now.  If I can’t complete a thought as it applies to my own heart, mind, and spirit.  What am I crying about?

Fear?  There is actually no middle ground between mania and misery. I can understand you, but I am a stranger to myself.  I can’t connect.

Anger?  This is the very reason I’ve avoided doctors and diagnosis for years.

So…

I go to the auditorium.  There, waiting for the good stuff to begin, is a new friend– the one  I just wanted to get to know because she’s raised such remarkable children.  She stopped me and asked me how I was doing.

I broke down.  I was so embarrassed.  I am still today, 4 days later.  So weak.  So out of control.  At this point, so ugly, as this was my second cry in an hour.

She understood.  She knew what I was going through.

She took me by both arms and stared me in the eyes and said, “God is with you.  He is with you.”  Over and over.

I locked on her eyes.

I’ve seen them all week, when I’ve heard her words.

I can see them now.

It was only this morning(or last night, I’m really not sure.  It was dark.), that I understood them.

I cannot feel anything.  I cannot do any higher order thinking.  I cannot connect on anything deeper than surface level (Hi, you are wearing a red shirt today.).

God is still here.

He hears my hunger for connection.  He knows I remember the spiritual moments I had when I could feel thankfulness, intimacy, and delight.  He knows that the memory is slipping away. Even though, I can’t even think or reason or decide or pray–He is still here and still actively protecting me and providing for me and the ones I am supposed to be caring for who shouldn’t be having to take so much care of me.

He is here.  He knows my thoughts and my lying down and my going out.

He is here with me, right now.

It turns out she understands better than I do myself.

She’s been through it and had to learn that the hard way, I guess.

So I stare back in those sparkling eyes.  And drop into her aching arms.

To wait until My Deliverer passes by.

 

 

 

Writer’s Workshop: Back In Time

1.) Recycle a favorite post from July of any year that you have been blogging.  This post is actually from the ‘now defunct’ adoption blog, with updates per the ones that are accomplished.

There are 100 things I’d like to do before I celebrate my 100th birthday.  Well, quite number more than that, and the fun stuff more than once.  But you know…I have to digress in some direction(the jury is still out on whether I need some meds for the ADD)  [In 2012,I have not one, but two doctors opinions.  It’s not ADD.  I’m just annoying]  .  Since encouraged to take a moment to contemplate the future’s starlit canvas ( what?), here is the list of things so I have it written down in a place I might be able to find it to mark things off.

CRAZYBELOVED ONE HUNDRED THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I TURN ONE HUNDRED

  1.     Be debt free–all debt: credit cards,
  2.     Home
  3.     Auto. Did it, paid one off.  Bought a new one on Monday.
  4.     Save to pay for College,
  5.     Weddings
  6.      And retirement.
  7.      Be finished with this house, by renovation or evacuation.
  8.      Participate in the Neighborhood Christmas Tour of Historic Homes.  I volunteered, again.  Got my fill.
  9.     Find a vacation rental we can return to year after year…we are thinking Outer Banks.
  10.     Be well-read instead of just a reader.
  11.     Finish the story that lives on my shoulder and never skips a day of asking to be written.
  12.     Publish.
  13.     Become known for my hospitality (don’t think Martha, think iced tea in mason jars and laughing until 3 a.m; not moving from the dining room to the living room because it might break the spell).
  14.     Learn to like feta or some other objectionable trendy food.
  15.     Become a REALLY good cook.  Not a gourmet chef.  A Good Cook.
  16.     Own a little neighborhood coffee shop.
  17.      Enter the Pillsbury Bake-off.*
  18.     Figure out a way to share with others in a way that meets needs that are beyond shelter and food.
  19.     Get consistent with my nutrition and exercise.There are not really days off in life.
  20.     Lose 10 more pounds. Change this to twenty.
  21.      Be organized. Real life, finished singing the same old tune, once and for all.
  22.      Have a house that appears to have been decorated with any amount of deliberateness.
  23.      Have 15 minutes of fame for something pleasant.  Not for being a stupid idiot.
  24.      Be a good listener.
  25.      Visit the following: Grand Canyon.
  26.      Philadelphia
  27.      Washington D.C.
  28.      Alaska
  29.      Mount Rushmore
  30.      Kenya
  31.      Spontaneously jump into the car and take off for the beach.
  32.      Get an slr and learn how to use it*
  33.      Kick a bad habit– TV, caffeine, sugar.
  34.      Go geocaching*
  35.      Farm (you know, a garden and a goat and some hens)
  36.      Dress Fabulously
  37.      Have a “signature scent”.
  38.      School my kids to graduation. To the option to go to a really good college.  If they choose.
  39.      Get through this “teen” stage with my girls and move through to a fun healthy relationship.
  40.      Be the mom who has the fun ideas and executes them simply and economically.
  41.      Be the good grandma.
  42.      Have enormous great holiday celebrations.
  43.      Meet some of my favorite bloggers in person*  Met Shell, at Blissdom; sent by Jennifer.  Found a ton of new faves.
  44.      See some important relationships healed on both sides.
  45.      Invite my cousins, SILS, and nieces & nephews to come visit and have them come or want to come.
  46.      Get a cabin in the mountains for Christmas
  47.      Be the family with season passes for the good stuff (not the living history museum).
  48.      Have the courage and wit to stand up for the right so well that people are persuaded without being angry first.
  49.      Learn to scuba dive (from Lance who promised it to us for a wedding gift).
  50.      Learn to climb rocks.
  51.      Get proficient at some sort of textile related craft.*
  52.      Dance in the rain, again.
  53.      Take Mickey to see the Yankees.
  54.      Buy him a(nother) ’65 Mustang.
  55.      Be better at my job.
  56.      Hang out with the Fergusons, again.  Did it.  Last Mother’s Day…Already time to put it back on the list.
  57.      Win something big.
  58.      Own an RV.
  59.      And the big @#$ truck to pull it with.
  60.      See a miracle.
  61.      Visit Boston.
  62.      Know someone who eventually becomes REALLY famous.(Every Oklahoman who knew Mary Hart when she was on Dannysday.)
  63.      Help my kids search their heritage when the time comes.
  64.     Go snowskiing.
  65.     Spend Christmas in New England.
  66.     Do something that would make my aunts and cousins proud.
  67.     Raise beautiful flowers.
  68.     Keep a journal.
  69.     Have another transcendant friend.
  70.     Be really old and have people asking what the secret is and saying crazy stuff like eating bacon, smoking tiparillos, going without sunscreen, drinking a shot of cheap tequila every time I go #2.  Or whatever.
  71.     Build a home in the plan of either the 83rd street house or my Grandmother’s house.
  72.     Not skydive. So far so good.
  73.     Watch the sunset over a rocky shoreline, drinking wine, while my flat stomach peeks out the bottom of my camisole over the comfortable expensive jeans.
  74.     Visit all the amusement parks so my husband can ride all the roller coasters(I like a day at the park, but don’t particularly care for coasters.  Mickey and Diva E’s joy would be enough).
  75.    De-clutter my house.
  76.    Learn to speak Chinese
  77.    Stand-up at an Open Mic Night
  78.    Enter a Chili Cook-Off.
  79.    Win.
  80.    Love.
  81.    Help.
  82.    Sing.
  83.     Rejoice.
  84.     Be a cause for rejoicing.
  85.     Encourage others.
  86.     Teach my kids the same.
  87.     Teach my kids our family history and theirs.
  88.     Get the Thank Yous out in a timely fashion.
  89.     Get a niece from China. 
  90.     Move the washer and dryer downstairs to the right spot.
  91.     Have a collection of something interesting (-er than coffee mugs and cookbooks).
  92.     Have good hair and skin (please God, one time before I die).
  93.     Not end my 15 minutes of fame by being a stupid idiot.
  94.     Never EVER meet Tom Cruise (or Angelina Jolie or Kate Gosselin or Meredith Viera or Nicole Kidman).  Right on schedule.
  95.     Be prepared in case of an emergency.
  96.    Get a boy’s room ready with a cowboy theme.
  97.    Finish raising the funds for this adoption.
  98.    Pack well.
  99.    Fly to China.
  100.    BRING MY SON HOME!!!!

Now wouldn’t it be fun to pass your list to the person on your right and help make each others lists happen?

 

This is my first time to choose a Mama Kat prompt to write on.  It is a load of fun. [I try to link up often.  It’s still fun.]

I am linking this post to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, still.

 

 

*some of these need to give credit to Jennifer @ Momma Made It Look Easy.  These are the ones I might not have remembered if I hadn’t read her list.  Any other duplication is because we seem to look forward to some similar things.

There’s Always an Extra Blessing to Obedience…Darn It.

When I wrote that post on Tuesday, I already had a phone date with Cousin.  I also told her in the email I would call our Aunt.  Both conversations went really well.  Bottom line?  I come from good people.  I told Aunt what happened with my dad, which she didn’t know.  The cousin truly didn’t know anything.  We mainly just caught up.  It was wonderful.  I found out Dad’s pretty sick, but if I lived down the street I probably wouldn’t have found out any sooner.  That’s just how my people are.

So yesterday,  I can’t concentrate on getting anything done with school mostly finished.  It is not energizing to wait around watching 14 year-olds NOT do Algebra.

No matter what the tabloids say.

When they gave up, I did.  And after they had stood around in the backyard strategically out of sight, for about half an hour, I leaned out the back door and said, “Clean my house and I’ll take you to [the amusement park].  Ha Ha.  It took them, like, 20 minutes.  The place sparkled.

The down side?  Now I know they are able to do it that fast.

Okay, so it’s weird.

We get there and start walking around.  I wait by myself while the kids ride something I can’t ride.  And this feeling comes over me.  God is going to show me something at the park.

Typing this, I feel foolish.  Like people who refer to God speaking to them like Larry King talks to Alec Baldwin.

But it was what it was and I thought, “That’d be nice.”  And more or less went on with my on park job of waiting while children ride rides(no, I like it.  I people watch.).

At the entrance to the third ride, my kids freak.  They ran in all different directions.  I couldn’t get there attention to say where to meet or find out who was going where.  It was partly the area of the approach, but mostly like herding bouncy, highly energetic cats.  Or puppies.

I digress.

They kind of freaked.  And I am standing there trying to holler names and find out where everyone is trying to go and one of them says, “That lady just called your name.”

I spun around.  What lady?  An adult who knows me?  That my kids don’t recognize?

“Maggie, Is it you?”

It was me.  It was her.

We stood in the exact middle of the exit.  Holding each other and rocking back and forth.

We were friends before kids.

Both of us were new to the church, stayed home even though we had no kids, and needed a friend our age in town.  I was from Oklahoma and had worked as a nanny for two years.  She was from Brazil.  Her husband was in law school and she was alone a good bit.

I was at the hospital when her first baby was born…the girls were 13 months old.  His feet were bigger than theirs that day.

All the children gathered around for 3.5 seconds for an introduction, looking all the time like,”Is this going to keep me from going to the next ride?”

It was okay…we started talking.  Just like before.

It began to rain.

She had to go.

She told her son, “She was my only friend, then.”

I sat in awe of her as simply amazing.  Then, as in a moment, yesterday.

The rain poured down and the kids ran on ahead and I pondered.

I noticed a group whose t-shirt had a Bible verse on it.

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

I thought, “Yeah, I need to start doing that.”

But then I realized… What if it was seeking his Kingdom to seek peace with relatives and He added family?  What if obedience, like Algebra or housecleaning, is soooooo hard, yet it doesn’t take very long and look at the results?   The downside?  Now I know I can do it.

Work for two.

Gets one free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If It Were That Simple; Everyone Would Do It

Anyone who’s known my blog for awhile may have noticed I don’t mention parents, in-laws or extended family.  I always affirm others in those relationships, but haven’t shared my own story.

Lately, I have felt prompted about simple obedience.  No matter that the world around me is having a full on revolution of selfish self-seeking rude violent lawlessness.  What leads to happiness is what always has.

“Trust and Obey, for there’s no other way to be happy…”

Elisabeth Eliot, once teaching on finding rest, said,”The happiest students on any college campus are the athletes and musicians, because they have voluntarily come under discipline.”

We’ve had a lot of change going on.  Change can bring discomfort.  If you want to know about trusting God, I can’t tell you, because the minute we got a little money in the house, I started having trouble listening to Him.  I know what I ought to do.  I would prefer to do something else.  So, I am living the philosophy that I have always hated most

“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.”

Um, no.  It isn’t.

At any rate, along with EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE UNIVERSE, the topic of extended family relationships began to nag at me.  What is my role? Do I want to lose them forever?

Two years ago, my dad’s stepdaughter publicly eviscerated me on facebook.  I promptly called him to say I didn’t say anything that warranted that response and in the course of the conversation said, “I understand that you may have found your second family and might not need a relationship with me, but…”

And while I paused to search for the right words to ask that I not be bawled out by people who don’t know me for things I have never expressed or implied, he said, “Yep.”

He didn’t clarify and ended the conversation by saying he’d talk to me in a few days.

I never heard his voice again.

And no one else’s in the family either.

Based on the thinking of the last couple of weeks, which coincide exactly with the original event, I moved forward, tentatively; with an email to the cousin closest to me in age. My cousin responded to my email by saying:

“I don’t know about it, or want to take sides.   I just think it is sad for all involved.”

If they don’t know, how can they think it’s sad.  Isn’t it taking sides to not hear both and not speak to the person whose side you haven’t heard?

To my blame, writing this has made me realize, if I’ve been having a hard time listening to God, I shouldn’t initiate processes without His approval.  Will all things work together for good?  Sure.  Did it have to be this way? No. This is uncomfortable.  I can explain my side, but if they didn’t care about it last week, it’s difficult to imagine they’d change now.  I don’t feel ashamed of the way I have handled it up to now. The Bible does say, “Seek peace and pursue it.”  It doesn’t follow up with, “because it’s your job to make it happen.”

I don’t have to be the one to pursue God, My Father.  He pursues me, crazy, rebellious, black sheep that I am. And all I have to do to seek peace is obey Him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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