Thursday, June 12, 2008


The Man and I had a crabby day yesterday. I'm not sure what was bothering both of us, but we weren't kind to one another. Neither of us has been feeling well lately, and I think that becomes our excuse to be rude. He has had an achy feeling the last week or two, and my allergies have been brutal. I was having a lovely sit on my pity pot about it the last few days, asking God why He won't heal me of all of the things I'm allergic to, and how I would be a better servant, mom and wife if He would heal me. I've been watching the Todd Bentley revival in Florida on and off for weeks, and it's exciting seeing all of those people get healed. I'm sure there are some who aren't truthful, but there are many that you can just tell are genuine. The woman the other night with the birth defect for example, you could tell that her ear was terribly malformed, and I have no doubt that she had been deaf in that ear since birth. And now she can hear! A true miracle. I'm no dispensationalist, I firmly believe that miracles and healings still happen today. But I find myself praying, 'God, I believe! Help my unbelief!' (Mark 9:24) More than my own healing, I want it for my mother. I have faith that she will be healed, but the waiting, waiting, waiting.... will You heal her this side of Heaven Lord? Can we all live with it if You don't?
I'm confronted with my own lack of gratitude, and I know that I must learn to ask with complete faith, but with enough maturity that I can live without what I ask for. The Apostle Paul asked God repeatedly to heal him of the 'thorn in his flesh', but it was left there for a purpose.
Gratitude... this is something we talk about frequently in meetings. It must be more than emotion, but follow into action that shows we are truly grateful. In my day to day living, I need to be showing in my actions that I am grateful. The way I speak, the way I raise my children, what I teach them - should be infused with the gratitude for all that I am given.
I was sitting in the breakfast room this morning, drinking my coffee and reading a book. The Barnacle was in his high chair, chatting in a sing song voice and eating his cereal. I was struck by how translucent his blonde hair looked in the early sun. The Princess was packing her bag for school while the Boy snoozed on the couch, escaping the heat of his upstairs room. I thought about the members of Selah, so fresh in their losses, and of the several women I know who have become young widows this past year. And I am confronted with the reality that no matter what pain my broken road has shown me, I am alive, my marriage is whole and I am abundantly blessed.
The Man called me last night from work and we both apologized. A bit of quiet and time gives the gift of perspective, and both of us sitting many miles from each other, alone in the silence of the evening was enough to show us our own ridiculousness. I don't know why we so often choose to learn things the hard way. But I can be grateful that we get there, however long it takes us.

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