Daughter, you are to grow right where you are planted.
Yes, even if you are transplanted.
Okay God.
And while we are at it, thank you for the trials. I have spent more time doing the things You want of me.
more time spent upon my knees--hands folded, tears streaming rivers down my face, heart wrenching out emotions, squeezing hands tight during family prayers.
more time communicating with my husband--yes, sometimes I start with a loud, demanding, selfish voice (which you readily convict me of), but mostly when we meet in the kitchen and I trade his lunch box, hot coffee, breakfast for calm conversation birthed between us in pre-morning darkness.
more time reaching out to brothers and sisters in Christ--middle of the night prayer requests typed by tear-stained fingers, daytime phone calls trying to get a grasp on my sanity, and head on shoulder and heart on sleeve cry-conversations with neighbors, bowing heads and lifting souls to Jesus.
more time knowing that the same Christ family members are praying for me and my kin, putting our names on their prayer chains, huddling in prayer groups uttering pleas for His will on our behalf, sending me email & snail mail notes of encouragement and blessing.
more time understanding that You are God and I am not.
Oh yes, I said that. I don't think I made heavens and earth. No, no, no. What I sometimes think is that I know what is best. For me. For those around me. And then I go with it like a half-crazed woman. When it doesn't pan out in my time, in my way, and within my parameters, I work myself into a muddy puddle in the dirt. And by the looks of things, at times I tend to flop around in a desperate mud-flinging fit.
Lord, here we are. Our house sale fell through. And we moved far away and are in a rental. Ahh, it surely gave me something to cry about Monday when the realtor called with the bad news. And Monday night while the house was humming with sleep, I was really busy making mud in my covers.
Then, yesterday was my son's birthday.
Oh, I know You remember the night he was born six years ago. After a full day of that horrid pitocin IV drip and contractions that nearly broke my flailing body right in half (and caused the epideral-giving doc to say, "In all my life I have never seen anything like this. Hold her still. Still!"), my son was born via an emergency c-section in a room full of masked strangers. When his breath finally came, mine did too.
I also know that the pregnancy, the birth, the discovery of his heart condition, and his subsequent healing, came from heaven above. We came to know You during the pregnancy. In fact, we were dunked under water soon after he emerged.
And now, Your Son and my son continue to save me each and every day. And make me bolder for You and Your Kingdom. Remember when I shouted out just prior to them cutting my son from my womb, "We need to pray. Someone pray!" The young doctor told them all to stop. "Just stop. And let her pray." Lord, I only hesitated long enough to breathe before I dove into Your arms in my first-ever out-loud prayer.
Oh yes, Father, I get distracted with memories. Oh, it's not really a distraction, it is a memory. A memory of You and Your might work.
Yes daughter, I agree.
Anyway, yesterday was my little fella's birthday. I admit that I had to put on a happy face. And I had to talk with my husband. And I had to get my heart straightened out a bit before I fully gave way to the joy the day held. Oh, You know why I was so jumbled...not just because our house sale fell through but because of the anniversary.
After I wallered around in my personal mud bath, I toweled off the gunk and gave way to You as I spread on the balm of joy. The joy of eager gift-opening. The joy of dad and son playing with the new remote control car. The joy of sharing lunch with both my boys at a cafe filled with others speaking of Your and Your awesome works. The joy of going to the park and sliding, swinging, playing, running, walking dogs, gathering gigantic leaves, and having fun family time--all in the rain. The joy of eating birthday cake for dinner. The joy of praying over my little one in his covers as he folded his hands next to mine in the dark. The joy of knowing you blessed us with this 45-pound warrior for Christ, Your Son.
Lord, this morning, the man You so graciously gave me as my husband and my friend, he told me with such a calm reassurance that You have a plan. That You have reasons. I awoke at a bit after 3am, not with the mud muddling up my heart and mind, but with a peace that surpasses all understanding. So, when I dragged out of bed 15 minutes later to get my husband's morning gear ready, I was already reassured by You and Your plan. Oh, thank You for those who fervently have been praying for our family. Thank you Lord for my family being together, here in this odd house piled high with cardboard and dishevelment. Thank you that in the midst of it all, there You are. There You are!
Daughter, you are to grow right where you are planted.
Yes, even if you are transplanted. I am in the dirt. And in the mud. I am right in the middle of it--with your family. And with you.
Okay God. I Love You.
Love you too.
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Please take time today, right now in fact,
Your voice needs to be heard.
Take a stand for life.
For liberty.
And for freedom.
It is simple.
Find the phone numbers.
Dial the numbers.
Read this statement to the person answering the phone:
I oppose the Washington takeover of America's health care
and I ask (insert senator name here) to do the same.
Also, I ask that (he/she) votes to keep the pro-life Stupak-Pitts Amendment
unaltered and intact, just in case the bill passes.
Thank you for your time.
Don't forget to pray!
And then pray some more.
Go back here to read some facts, watch a couple of videos,
and see how you can make a difference.