Something New...

I love the Old Testament. I think it is highly overlooked and underrated. Sure, people love the Psalms and maybe even some Proverbs, but the OT has so much more, beyond beautiful songs and warnings against folly.

The OT is steeped in history (so much more than the go-to Sunday School stories). It is full of prophets proclaiming the Messiah and the message to turn and repent. It is a message of hope. Today was the first Sunday in Advent; the Sunday where we light the Prophesy candle of hope. What is Advent, really? It's translation means "coming". But is it just a celebration of sweet baby Jesus who was born in a manger, or does it carry the weight of an expectation that He will come again?

As I find myself in Isaiah lately, I can't help but be enveloped in that hope that is permeated with expectancy. He is doing a new thing, whether we like it or not; whether we choose to be teachable or not.

Today I begin my 36th year and I look back at last year. Did I give my all for my All in All? Did I behave like one who has the promise of hope?

I don't want to have a list of missed opportunities haunt me. I want to live for this day, because it is the only day I am really promised. And I want to make a difference. A real difference. May we look for the 'something new' that He is doing. Where is He calling His people? I can most assuredly guarantee that it probably isn't where we are now, all cozy in our watered-down version of what he has commanded (wasn't that just a suggestion, really?) or expected of us (Ouch, right?!).

It's so much more than lighting a candle, or a whole wreath full. It is in the living, the daily surrendering of self.

May this year, and every year after, be more of Him and less of me!

Losing Everything, But...

I try my best to preoccupy my mind with other insignificant things, but the thoughts return to me and with them an abiding sadness. I don't feel like much of anything. I don't feel like hanging out or talking, because the tears I try desperately to contain easily betray me.

I haven't been to church for weeks. Sure, I was working and had other stuff going on, but I know those are really just excuses. And, now when I say that I do not feel well, it's not a lie. I don't.

And I don't know what to do.

I never thought this week would come. The week where Glenn receives his last unemployment check. I remember the holidays last year; they were hard. I remember thinking how thankful I was that the following year wouldn't be like this one. And it's not.

It's worse.

So, while people are making holiday plans and doing their holiday shopping, I sit and ponder questions.

I look for cheaper places to live, but can't really find any. So, we stay and then what? I just took on more work, but it's not enough.

It is a horrible feeling to realize that I cannot provide for my family (even working 50 hours a week).

I feel as if I am hanging on by a thread and I am about to lose everything. Even my dreams of late are permeated with loss.

But I pause. I try to remember the one thing I cannot lose. And I know this is for my own good. And I know that I am in His hands and He has my family there also

I remember the times before where He has intervened in dire situations. I look to the Scriptures and see where He says it's not easy. I see over and over again His matchless love and I know that it is for me too.

And I cling to the tiniest mustard seed you have ever seen, but He said that was enough.

Learning Curve

I haven't had too much to say lately. I have, however, had a lot of time to reflect.

I don't really have any profound insights, yet I am learning nonetheless. Learning things about God and about me (and others as well).

I am learning that God isn't an absentee father to bastard children, He doesn't play favorites, nor is He an abusive step father. He can handle everything -- my questions and my emotions that are thinly veiled. I can be raw with Him. In fact, He wants nothing less than for me to be real with Him.

I am learning that I can reach a point where I withdraw. I am there now. I disdain pretending and I would rather weather a storm alone than bring others into the storm with me. I hear sweet friends offer up pleas to support me, walk with me, and I have to admit that I am not sure what that looks like. I just know I would rather retreat than to bring attention or concern to myself and bring others down.

I have a servant's heart and I love to serve. I am not really comfortable with the reversal of roles. I am learning, though, that there is a season for both. Just as there cannot be compassion without suffering, there also cannot be true service without allowing others to serve you.

Through this, I am also learning that we are called to be real and to live out our faith in very real ways. We are to be Christ to others. Of course, we fail miserably, but we, by grace, keep on.

A recent conversation about the difference between genuine friends and plastic friends (not sure if the Mean Girls reference was intentional or not, but it's brilliant =)) was very eye-opening.

It is impossible to be everyone's BFF, but moreover, if we are members of the body, we are family (like it or not). Just like with any family, there is a responsibility. I am much more aware of how I respond to others. God forbid I act like a Plastic and either ignore people or throw out a cliche for whatever troubles them (I abhor cliches, but I know I have been guilty of this too). Or worse yet, say I am praying for them in passing and then never bring them before the Throne of Grace.

So, here I am: still long-suffering, still in a hope-deflating valley, still struggling, still fragile, but longing to be taught here and transformed by this time (a transformation that wouldn't be possible without walking through it).

And I see glimpses of change (in me) and it bolsters hope. And I take one more step. And then another.