Battling Alone is Never His Plan

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The house was quiet and Dave and I drifted off to sleep with a plan to take the next morning slow and easy. A rare treat as our middle child had been on suicide watch for some time, causing shifts in our sleep habits. All three kids were at a church camp retreat. REM sleep had settled in when a sudden surge penetrated my body and shot me to a straight up position in bed while the words “in Jesus name” left my mouth loud enough to wake Dave.

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Just a Little Venting!

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“Do everything without complaining and arguing.” Philippians 2:14 NLT

Blatantly obvious words that leave little (actually zero) room for negotiation. Don’t consider, but a direct command to just “do.”

Little or big things, hard or menial tasks all categorized into one lump sum of “everything.”

Exclusive of, not partaking in or allowing an exhale of grief to cross lips during said “doing,” equals “without” and is mutually exclusive with non-existence.

Three “all or nothing” directives offer no wiggle room, “what if” scenarios or “but I was just” excuses.

Why does He have to be so stringent and uptight? What’s a little whine before dinner done to harm anyone?
Venting our annoyances is therapeutic, right?

Guilty! I justify my “arguing” in ways that could turn a jury’s vote. But God’s word lacks an addendum that rights my wrongful attitude of grumbling.

I texted my 19 year old to find out how it was going. His reply, “sitting in these stupid lines for the 5th time is not cool.”

It wasn’t a painful process and he had no where more important to be, as I did, so I implored him to accompany his sister, a freshman in high school, to her “essentials day” by walking her through the picture line, locker assignment line and “pay for everything line.”

Lines are annoying, waiting is cumbersome but his expression of dissatisfaction was more than venting. It stung. What I heard was “you’re not worth my time, Mom.”

All has been resolved since this first text began an elevated discussion on complaining where I threw this verse in his face while, myself, complaining that he isn’t more sensitive. Crud! It’s so annoying when God convicts me while I’m convicting my children. Oops, did it again.

Truth…complaining ALWAYS takes our eyes off of opportunities God may be placing before us to serve and encounter others.

Blinded by our own selfish desires for comfort, whether it’s a mountain or a mole hill, we will stunt our growth in Christ if we focus on the annoyances or grievances of a task or obstacle that blocks our path. . We become stumbling blocks with the contagion that is complaining by breathing negativity rather than the joyful spirit of Christ. God cannot be glorified in the midst of whine and pessimism. Only if we reflect His nature in EVERYTHING we do will true joy be found in all circumstances.

So why risk it?

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HIS Hand Reached Out for Me!

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DAY 26 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

Air heavy with chill, weighted darkness, a child afraid

Naively innocent, need of love, was I to blame

How was I to know, how could I have seen

The pain that he would cause, when his hand reached out for me.

 

Years lapse by, tears uninterrupted, never I could find

Unadulterated love for my trust to hide behind

How could he not know, why could he not see

He would shred my soul when his hand reached out for me

Teens problems. Young woman alone at the city

Can I be made whole, Is there hope for me

Do you see me hiding here

Absent then, absent now,

Another turned eye is what I fear

 

Surging shame, disgrace unlimited, it’s all I have known

Till a prayerful plea, I unleash, “God, please save my soul”

How was I to know, How could I have seen

There’d be healing power when His hand reached out for me

 

I am healed

I am free

Cause HIS hand reached out for me

 

 

Watchful Eyes!

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DAY 25 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

He lounges in his favorite spot, feet propped up, and southern style tea by his side while she settles beside him on his right with newspaper in hand. The paper is flapping softly from the movement of the air circulated by the fan above. I am nested precisely where I always am.  I observe no divergence from the routine, yet something seems, well, unexplainably off.  Silence is interrupted by gravel being crushed and turned under the weight of tires.  A brief glance between the two says this is an unexpected visitor.

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A Failure to Communicate with Words!

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DAY 7 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

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No fancy entanglement of words.  No amazing stories.  Just a thought stirring my heart.

You can rarely mistake love for anything but love, but silence can be interpreted with a thousand varied tones.

Act in love, speak in love share in love, just don’t say nothing.

I long for someday!

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DAY 5 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

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Some days I detect a longing that penetrates deep to the core of my soul. Nothing can draw attention away from this aching. A thought that does not pass, a hope, no, an anticipation for relief. Near haunting is this awareness that life will one day be indescribably peaceful.

Distant memory of pain, brokenness and frailty no longer will  mold me, hold me.  An awakening to an eternal where survival, healing are no longer a goal but a feat.  Feeling is not feared. As it now is, life will be no more.

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The benefit of depression!

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I turn my back from the sun, and slap the snooze…again. Thoughts form, “just get up and move.”  Limbs proceed to upright position; feet dangle a few inches from the floor.  “So close, but yet…forget it.” My head drops back against the pillow, down feathers envelope and cradle me.  I am incapable to motivate myself for another day. Instead my blanket of dull and dreary, I find safe and most content.

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When Wounds Run Deep!

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DAY 19 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

“He is definitely sucking his finger,” the dermatologist demanded as he rolled his eyes and wrote something in the chart.

“I am fully aware that you are the professional,” I begin.  Jaw tightened and eyes narrowed I continued, “however, for the 1000th time, I am telling you, my son has never…sucked…his fingers.”  A slammed door behind me, determination erupted to prove this quack wrong.

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