I’ve been asked a million times lately how we’re doing. Considering the circumstances, I am deeply appreciative of the concern expressed by friends and acquaintances. And I have mostly tried to keep my replies to a minimum as best I can because if I’m not careful, all the hurt and anger comes bursting forth like a flood having been barely held at bay. It all still feels a bit surreal. Like it didn’t really happen. Except for that it did.
And I’ve not been up here to write anything since the last post because honestly, everything that was in my head felt silly. I mean, I guess when you go through something that’s life changing and overwhelming and devastating all at once, you feel like somehow that thing should completely rule and reign in your mind and over everything you do and to try to write about something lighthearted like joy and cookies and gardens and Legos feels fake somehow because you know what’s happened and everybody else knows what’s happened and well, who can write about growing watermelons at a time like this?
And while I’m still not really over the whole thing, I can surely look around me and see God at work. And working in some pretty unexpected ways at that. Healing is a slow process, but now beginning to really see God’s hand in it all is like a soothing balm on a burning wound.
I can’t lie. For a little while there, it kinda felt like He was missing the whole thing. Like blow by blow, the hits just kept coming and God was just standing there with His holy hands in His pockets. In my heart, I know better, but sometimes you forget to operate out of the truth of what you know and you let your eyes drift away from His face. I’ve talked a great game about faith and trusting in Jesus, but can I just admit here that sometimes it’s just been talk? Because if I was Peter on the water, I’d have sunk several times already, that’s for sure.
Sometimes I feel like a crazy person. One minute my faith is strong and intact and I know that I know that I know. And then the next minute, I feel like a lost sheep on a hill somewhere in the middle of nowhere, bleating like mad, and then running away like an idiot when I see the Shepherd coming.
Tell me I’m not the only one?
And I don’t know how to resolve all that except to say thank you to the Shepherd who keeps coming.
Because this crazy sheep needs Him.
Even when I think I don’t and I’m running away angry and scared.
And even when I know I do and I’m falling into Him.
I need Him. You need Him. We need Him.
Help me Lord.
So next time, can we just talk about Legos?