Monday, February 13, 2012

Sip. Sip.

Apparently lots of good friends and a coma-inducing volume of fine chocolate (more than 14 dozen truffles made.  woot.) is not quite enough to postpone the inevitable "worst-week-of-the-year" meltdown.  To top it off, almost every night last week I had nightmares, and spent at least three nights watching Emmett die again in my sleep.  The other nights were a variety of Hunger Games-esque/concentration camp/stalker dreams approaching the level of permanently emotionally scarring.  By Friday of last week I swear I had zombie eyes.

But otherwise I'm doing well.

At least, that is if you discount the fact that I spent my quiet time this morning hiding under the covers first trying not to wake up and then sobbing.  I personally consider it a success to have attempted a quiet time at all.  

If you haven't already figured it out, let me clue you in that I've been feeling a little melodramatic lately.  Yes, it's a rough time of year, but I am strangely okay.  Maybe because I spend my nights working out my angst in dreams, I find that some days I can be down right chipper.

I'm still stuck on that verse in Romans 8:18, which I was trying (rather unsuccessfully) to recite to myself as I was hiding under the covers this morning: 
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 
 I'm just having trouble agreeing with Paul here, and I know it's a personal problem because I can intellectually assent to the truth that heaven, by definition, is much more awesome than life right now.  But I do not currently feel the need to pretend that it makes sense.

So I've been wrestling with God for weeks now, asking him to make that truth real to me, and honestly, I haven't had much to say because he hasn't really answered me.  I'm a little annoyed with him, but I keep going because I trust him, so I ended my colossal pity party this morning with a few verses from Hebrews 11: 13-16.
 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.  If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return.  Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.
Then I got out of bed.  And quite frankly for that I deserve a gold star, or at least a jasmine green tea from The Perch.  That'll work too.  sip. sip.

1 comment:

  1. You don't know me... I peripherally knew Emmett at Furman. But I have been reading your blog and praying for you, and today I just wanted to say that I admire your courage, your honesty, your sense of humor, and your attempted quiet times. :o) God is most assuredly not ashamed to be your God! You are a testimony to his faithfulness and his work in your heart.

    Some verses from II Chronicles 20 that always encourage me: "Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed at this great horde, for the battle is not yours, but God's... You will not need to fight in this battle. Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf, O Wendy and Quinn. Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed. Tomorrow go out against them, and the Lord will be with you... Give thanks to the Lord, for his steadfast love endures forever."

    Just as we need the Holy Spirit to intercede for us when we can not, it is comforting to know our battles are not ours to fight, but God's.