Where else would I rather be?
Monday morning. 8:16. 2 kids on the bus, one home sick, watching a video with Madison. I'm exhausted and discouraged. A dull ache in my head reminds me I got distracted making my coffee. My house is a mess. I can't even find my camera to take pictures to prove my mess! Outside, the rain is drizzling down. Rain drops decorate my windows.
As I was loading dishes into the dishwasher, I stopped briefly to pull the matches from the top shelf of my cupboard, and lit my apple pie candle. Music quietly blends with the voices from a Love Comes Softly video Corina is watching. Glancing at the screen, I see Missy plowing the field, blisters on her hands. Her dad, lying in bed, seriously ill. In pioneer days, life was about survival. If she didn't get her field planted in due time, they may starve over the winter.
Fast forward to 2010. I repent of my attitudes of ungratefulness! God, forgive me. We are dependant on you. We read stories of the persecuted church all over the world. Yesterday's story was about a young boy, Mark, who memorized the whole Quaran, some 2,000 verses.
As Mark grew older, he questioned Islam. In time, he became a Christian. And he was persecuted for leaving Islam. He was thrown into prison with a huge dog. Praying for protection, much like Daniel in the lions den, the dog sat peacefullly beside him.
Lord, how can I be such a wimp, after suffering through the loss my parents? God, change my heart. I am not very strong physically, and my emotional strength seems like it is waning too. I need you to get through with a positive attitude.
I realized, as I was stacking my dishes, redding up my kitchen, listening to music and smelling my candle, that I would rather be here, mess and all, than anywhere else in the world. This is my home. And I love my home.
God, teach me how to communicate my love for my family. I do love them. I just don't know how to let them know.
As I was loading dishes into the dishwasher, I stopped briefly to pull the matches from the top shelf of my cupboard, and lit my apple pie candle. Music quietly blends with the voices from a Love Comes Softly video Corina is watching. Glancing at the screen, I see Missy plowing the field, blisters on her hands. Her dad, lying in bed, seriously ill. In pioneer days, life was about survival. If she didn't get her field planted in due time, they may starve over the winter.
Fast forward to 2010. I repent of my attitudes of ungratefulness! God, forgive me. We are dependant on you. We read stories of the persecuted church all over the world. Yesterday's story was about a young boy, Mark, who memorized the whole Quaran, some 2,000 verses.
As Mark grew older, he questioned Islam. In time, he became a Christian. And he was persecuted for leaving Islam. He was thrown into prison with a huge dog. Praying for protection, much like Daniel in the lions den, the dog sat peacefullly beside him.
Lord, how can I be such a wimp, after suffering through the loss my parents? God, change my heart. I am not very strong physically, and my emotional strength seems like it is waning too. I need you to get through with a positive attitude.
I realized, as I was stacking my dishes, redding up my kitchen, listening to music and smelling my candle, that I would rather be here, mess and all, than anywhere else in the world. This is my home. And I love my home.
God, teach me how to communicate my love for my family. I do love them. I just don't know how to let them know.
Comments
Post a Comment