Breaking Alabaster

I looked at my phone tonight. The number 29 caught my eye. It's hard to believe that it's already the end of October. In exactly one month, I will be 38. And I don't think it's just me - this feeling that the years seem to pass in a hurry {each one more fleeting than the one prior}.

It's hard to keep perspective sometimes. Let's be honest, it's much easier to focus on the negative, the lacking, the broken. Wounds are difficult to choke down.

Tonight, I took things as they are. I slowed down enough to laugh and enjoy those that God gave me to love. And I decided that there isn't anything else to do in the hard times but to love. Love, after all, is the only thing that remains.

So, I made chicken biscuits for dinner and while they cooked, I peeled pears for a tart. And the boy played with his kitten. And I laughed watching the two of them. Thankful.


Then I took out one of my grandmother's old baking sheets. It is warped and it has its own special pati…

Not only are things never perfect, they are also rarely what they seem. Jaden wanted to adopt an older kitten for his birthday. He was drawn to a picture on the shelter website. Besides being a little scrawny {she was a stray}, she looked perfectly fine. The weekend passed. They wanted to spay her before we took her home. We got a call yesterday to come get her. They didn't spay her because she was sick with a common infection that cats usually contract. They gave me medication.

I took a beaming boy and his sneezing kitten home. I wasn't too concerned at first, except she wouldn't eat. So, I ran the shower on hot and sat with my glasses fogged up. I put cat food in the blender and force fed her. Twice. I have fresh scratches and I smell of rotten fish. And I prayed. I prayed fervently for Primrose Everdeen Beasley, because she needs to be okay. We need to be okay.

I would gladly take all of the blame. But that doesn't change anything, does it? All I want to do is wrap …

Things aren't perfect. In fact, they seem far from it. And I confess that it leaves me weary sometimes. Hope diminishes quickly some days and it's all I can do to try to cling to Jesus. Some days my heart mutters, "I believe, Lord, please help my unbelief." Other days, I am more like Job. I question indignant, "Why me? What did I do to deserve all of this?" {And I know down deep what I really deserve without grace}

There it was in the Old Testament reading this morning -one of my favorites: "The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace and remain at rest." And my legs felt too wobbly to carry me to the altar, but Jesus was with me in that pew being my peace. I leaned into His rest.

I admit, I have cried hot, desperate tears for not wanting to go further down this path, for this seems too painful {and I have been through enough in my life, I plead}. But, I look back at everything else and I remember it all. I remember the ugly that H…