“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:19
In my last devotion, I talked about how I broke my arm, and the reminder that it gave me to appreciate each moment because we never know what’s around the corner. Little did I know, a few days after writing that, I’d be facing another unexpected trial…
One week after getting a cast on my arm, my knee popped out and I fell again, this time, tearing a muscle in my knee. I haven’t been able to walk since. And I can’t use crutches because of my arm cast.
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There are days when it is easy to praise the Lord. Days when I get up and the sun is shining and all my children are happy and healthy. Days when my husband is extra loving and attentive. Days when I accomplish everything on my list.
But there are other days. Days when it is rainy and I feel depressed. Days when I am nursing a sick child (or more than one). Days when I argue with my husband and feel alone. Days when nothing seems to get done. It is harder to praise on these days.
And then there have been even harder days.
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I hate goodbyes. You’d think I’d be better at it at this point in my life–I’ve had lots of practice. It started when I was little. We moved enough that I never attended the same school for more than 2 years until I reached college.
Later, living in a college town, every 4 years or so there’d be a new batch of friends and more people to say goodbye to a few years down the road.
Then there were friends made and parted at camp, my own job changes (including moves to new cities), and now we’ve graduated to changing churches and locations for new ministry opportunities, etc.
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Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him! Isaiah 30:18 NIV
“Can I have a canned drink?” my son appeared from nowhere, his face beet red, sweaty hair plastered to his head in the shape of his bicycle helmet. “How about some water,” I said and watched his mouth turn south. I reached down to grab more laundry to sort, and when I looked up he was gone. A few minutes later, I headed downstairs, laundry basket in tow.
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“Do you love you or Daddy more?” The question came from my five-year-old daughter. We were outside soaking in the sun delighting in some light conversation. Light conversation? Then, she dropped this one on me.
Here are the thoughts that ricocheted through my mind–
“Daddy, of course.”
Then my Spirit whispered inside me, “Are you being honest?”
Mentally, I answered myself, “I don’t always treat him that way.”
Then I realized if I were to be really honest I’d say, “Me, I love myself more. I want to love Daddy more. I hope to treat him as if I love him more, but I lean on God for that.
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Have you ever been in a situation where you looked at the potential outcomes for your circumstances, and there wasn’t one that looked like a happy ending? You have spun and turned the facts every possible way, and found yourself left with a knot in the pit of your stomach.
Maybe your child was in trouble at school or with the law and your heart was broken. You were betrayed by someone you trusted, and you wonder how you will ever trust again. Your husband came home and said that he doesn’t think he loves you anymore, and left you standing there wondering how in the world that happened.
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Sleep eluded me one early morning before the sun rose, and instead of tossing in bed for another five hours, I decided to get up and do some work. After answering a few emails, I grabbed the Bible, opened to it and uttered a simple prayer. “Speak to me.” I really wasn’t expecting much, wasn’t really needing a heavy or life changing word, but my eyes fell on Luke 2:2, Zechariah’s Song.
“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare a way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising of the sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet in the path of peace.”
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My heart is grieved today. A thoughtful gift from my son has brought me a bit of pain. My eight-year-old received a packet of flower seeds at school recently. He carried them home for me in his backpack. My precious little boy thought long and hard about where he could put them. He wanted me to be surprised. He was so excited, he knew he had to place them somewhere I would find them almost immediately.
“Mom, have you been on your computer yet today?” he asked while getting ready for school. “No honey. I haven’t.” My laptop was where I’d last left it, by the side of my bed.
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