The trouble, the pain, just keeps coming and coming – piling up, suffocating, and consuming every thought. You search for hope in the darkness. You barely remember the time, a long time ago, when you thought if you just followed Jesus life would go well, easy. But that was long ago, and your very-real trouble seems to far out-weigh the blessings. Continue reading “God Is At Work In The Ugly”
I can’t begin to tell you how many mornings I’ve woken up in the last year to prayer and tears. Tears that were brought about by a foreshadowing loss, while trying to remain in Christ and His promises of strength and courage. The promise that God is greater.
Loss did occur and life was nothing as I had thought it would be, yet hope was not lost, somehow it has remained. I know it remains because of Christ, because only He can give real hope, peace and returning joy. Jesus never left me through any of the many trails, heartache and deep loss, a journey that I would never wish on anyone.
Almost one year ago, my nephew Graham killed himself. I have felt several times since then that I should write something about it, but the words never came to me. I could not think of how to start such a post, or how to end it. Still to this day, I really don’t know what to write.
I could write about my usual approach to dealing with such things—compartmentalization. Wall it off. Shut it out. Refuse to think about it. Admittedly an immature, self-centered approach. And one that really didn’t work this time as the raw grief in my brother-in-law’s—Graham’s father—cries pierced right through that veil. Never have I heard that kind of hurt in a voice or seen that kind of pain written across a face.
A few Sundays ago I was really struggling. The week before had been awful with long days at work, unpleasant drama in some close relationships, and unforeseen and unbudgeted expenses. Think of all the things that drain your energy, and they were probably a part of my week. The weekend hadn’t brought any more rest with it either, so by Sunday morning I pulled into the church parking lot with my emotional tank on E.
I sat through the sermon, and I tried not to cry.
I didn’t tell anyone how down I felt. How hard things were. How in need of prayer I was.
Because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was a hot mess. Continue reading “Gaining Strength Through Vulnerability”
I avoid hard times and tough choices at almost any cost. If being allergic to hard times was a thing, I would definitely be allergic. Like highly allergic. There is something buried deep inside us all that tells us we were not meant for pain and hardships, that these things are results of the Fall not of the Creation.
While it is natural to be resistant towards difficulties, it is completely unnatural to expect that difficulties will never arise. And yet, for some odd reason, Christ-followers tend to believe, either consciously or subconsciously, that when we dedicate our lives to following the way of Jesus our lives will be void of hardship. It is almost as if we think God owes us something for deciding that we want to live life the right way instead of the wrong way. But that is not the way life goes. Continue reading “Threadbare”
As I’ve researched foster care, particularly fostering as a single mom, I’ve found the theme of people who won’t understand. The ones who think I’m well-meaning but unwise. The ones who don’t understand my motivation or just can’t wrap their head around the concept at all. So, I decided to answer all the awkward questions that nobody wants to ask. To answer the things that have been in the back of your mind or perhaps that you had never thought of. Continue reading “Answering The Unasked Questions”