COLD

It will be near freezing tonight - are you cold my love?
Does a tent shield you from the harsh elements?
Do you have a warm coat or blanket?

If you were home, I would sneak into your room after you were asleep, just like I used to... and pull the covers up to your chin and whisper I love you and lay my hands on you and silently pray that you would always be safe.

If I knew you were warm, I wouldn't have to cry like I am right now.
If I knew you were safe, I wouldn't worry with every breath I take.

Dear God...please keep him warm.

The Religion of Dissatisfaction

I have just had a personal epiphany.... well, maybe MORE than personal.... but let's see how this comes out of my head and into words.

The religion I was raised in taught me...encouraged me...forced me...guilted me....into being dissatisfied.

Dissatisfied with what?

EVERYTHING.

Dissatisfied:

discontented, malcontent, unsatisfied, disappointed, disaffected, unhappy, displeased; disgruntled, aggrieved, vexed, annoyed, irritated, angry, exasperated, fed up.

I was "autosinging" an old church song this morning, and realized that it was just a big apology to God for what He had made and how He had made it (me!)

I have a running dialog with God most of the day and night....at least, I hope it's him I am talking to! What I just found though, is that I "autoapologize" to God ALL of the time. 

When the thoughts that pop into my head aren't really that nice, I apologize. When someone else says things against God or Jesus, I apologize. When I growl at myself in the mirror for being out of shape, I apologize for growling. When I complain, I apologize. When I see beggars on the street corner and growl toward them because they are playing with their smartphones, while asking me for money - I apologize. When I see a television preacher and quickly move past it, I apologize just in case God likes them better than I do :)

So, what if, instead of apologetic, I became GRATEFUL? And instead of dissatisfaction, I replaced it with JOY?

Yep... that's what I'm gonna do.

Were They Angels?

Six years ago while working in property management, I encountered two homeless women in one day - unrelated to one another. I overheard conversations they had with our team at different times of the day and they were both crying helplessly and didn't know what to do. They didn't have a place to live. One had slept on a bench with her dog the night before. That is when I invited Anna, Janna and her dog Hannah (pictured below) (you can't make this stuff up....) into my apartment to stay until they could find a place to live. Now, lest you think I am mini-Mother Teresa, this had not previously happened and will likely never happen again. I lived alone at the time and it was just the right time and the right place. When my regional manager got wind of it, she called and gave me an earful and an ultimatum. She warned me that they could steal all of my stuff (to which I answered - it's just stuff and I don't care that much about it.) She warned me that they could kill me (to which I answered - I was ready to go anyway.) She told me to take care of it or I would be terminated. 
In fact, it was such a bizarre turn of events that when I was invited to my new friends' dinner party, I asked if I could bring my "houseguests" - they hesitantly said yes and we had an... er.... interesting night!
Why am I telling this story? Well, these little pictures of the dog Hannah popped up in my memory feed and I remembered that time. 

 

It never occurred to me to NOT ask them to stay. I actually told my regional that I would do it again if it came up because at the time, it was the right thing to do. They didn't stay long. They didn't steal anything. And I have not seen them since.
After all was said and done, I remember that in the Bible it said, "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."
Sheesh, maybe they were angels.... even the dog.
Any angels show up at your door?

How Does a Mother Live on This Rollercoaster of Hope?

How does a mother live in a constant state of mourning for an addicted child?

I mean....how does this even work? He's alive, yet I mourn. I mourn the loss of who he was and who I thought he was destined to be.  Drugs and violence have snuffed out the life that he was meant for, yet he still lives, breathes and has a beating heart.

I'm on a rollercoaster of hope and emotions and I am hanging on for dear life and don't have any idea where it will end up.

My mother used to tell me, "It's in the Lord's hands." And I would counter, "But is it? I mean if God gives us free will and my child chooses to shoot heroin into his veins, then isn't it out of God's hands?" I wasn't trying to be a smarty pants, I just didn't (and still don't) understand. All I can figure is that it was one of those Christian platitudes that isn't really in the Scripture (is it?)
To be fair, I think her point was (maybe)  that since I gave him to God when he was a baby, everything would turn out ok.

Don't get me wrong, I love God and know He has plans to give us all a hope and a future.... but we don't get to choose the path for our children. They have to choose their own.

You may disagree with this next statement, but I'm 99.9% sure I'm right. I will see my son in heaven someday no matter how and when our lives end. THAT is in Scripture. He will never leave us.

So.... back to the question at hand - How do I balance the mourning vs. living my life in joy? Does it have to be an either/or? Can it be a both/and?  I mean... can I mourn yet still choose joy?

If I didn't mourn, I don't think I could breathe. If I didn't choose joy, I think my heart would stop.
So, I think I will continue to do both..... unless you have a better idea.