Everything is a Big Project

Defining the Problem

We all know how it is. A tiny paint job turns into a wash, spackle and sand ordeal before the bristles even make contact with the wall. Job interviews become major undertakings involving multiple interviews, background checks, and lots of nail biting. Even small weddings demand countless phone calls, emails, visits and beaucoup bucks. Buying a house is an expensive, involved process that can fall through at the last minute.

And then there’s the vital work of raising children. Between car seats that look like lounging chairs for royalty and cribs resembling four poster beds, it's all parents can do to put food on the table, let alone save for college. And these “have to's” for kids require know-how; gone are the days when we could pop kids into and out of car seats and transfer said seats between vehicles with minimal time and effort. Five-point harnesses are showing up on things like highchairs these days, making mealtime more of a challenge than it already is with young eaters.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for well-being. Home inspections and child safety make all the sense in the world. But I do wonder at times whether we're preparing ourselves right out of starting anything in the first place.

There's no way around it. Life is a big project. Where, oh where, has simplicity gone?

Drilling Down

Other things can be big projects, too. Things that aren't as tangible, but just as real and challenging as the more mundane aspects of life. Yours truly has been dealing with some such projects recently. Anger, resentment and fear, to be precise. 

No need to call in the suicide squad. The Lord has provided ample resources to cope with these difficulties, which I'll elaborate on shortly. In the meantime, I invite my readers to take a moment to reflect on the “big projects” - material, financial, emotional, spiritual - which are confounding them lately. 

I'm going to make the assumption that ALL our big projects are spiritual, for the simple reason that when anything stretches our limits, divine intervention is not only useful but often essential. Even the least spiritually inclined person must concede supernatural assistance at times. “Coincidence” allows us to cross paths with someone who can solve our problem in one way or another. “Fate” arranges events in an advantageous way. Some deem such happenings miraculous or lucky; whatever we call it, the plain fact is that impossible seeming solutions are orchestrated outside of our resources, by some unseen hand.

The Resentment Factor

When something’s bothering me, I pick at it. That’s why my hangnails turn into bloody fingers and scabs take a long time to heal. It’s not a behavior that I’m proud of, and I’m better than I used to be – but old habits die hard.

I do the same thing with perceived injustices. I’ve had some unhappy experiences recently, situations calling for forgiveness, which I felt loathe to give.

After all, I was right.

Can I get an “amen”? Don’t we all always feel like we’re in the right when righteous indignance comes to call?

The circumstances don’t matter; suffice it to say, I felt shortchanged and grieved by the actions or inactions of others on numerous occasions, and each encounter got progressively more painful in terms of who did the offending and the magnitude of the perceived wrong. Sadly, several of the hurts came from other believers.

Before anyone calls me thin-skinned, can’t we all point to seasons in our lives when it seems like the universe and everyone in it is out to get us? We can’t dwell in that attitude, or life wouldn’t be worth living; but it does seem there are times when everything’s going wrong.

Satan loves a good rodeo, and finds lots of clever ways to throw God’s children off the proverbial bull
just when they think they’ve got a firm grip on the reins. The fourth chapter of James describes some of the ways our enemy creates division among believers. Jesus Himself provides a clear example of how Satan can use our brothers and sisters in Christ to make us fall.

So, what’s a believer to do?

The Tools at Hand

First, use all the tools at hand. For me, one tool is journaling. A therapist told me long ago that “writing moves things” – it takes us from point A to point B with our emotions. One important caveat: these scribblings ought never show up in the offender’s inbox, at least not in their raw form. It’s much too easy to hit “send” on an unedited diatribe that will only make things worse.

Which brings me to a second point. I prefer verbally discussing a problem to letter writing. Written communication can be read and reread, picked and poked at (remember the hangnail and scab?). In addition, there’s always the possibility that the recipient will ignore the message and act like nothing ever happened. Personally, I find that more painful and uncomfortable than just getting it over with and hashing things out once tempers cool. This also happens to be the Biblical approach, although it will need to be adapted when dealing with people who aren’t on the same spiritual page.

While going through this period, I also revisited a book called Thank You for Being Such a Pain: Spiritual Guidance for Dealing with Difficult People, in which the author offers a roadmap for transforming irritation with people who “push our buttons” into spiritual growth. These practical strategies, combined with staying in God’s word, praying over the situations, and confiding in a spiritual mentor, helped defuse some of the anger, which was real and frightening.

Each New Problem Usurped the Previous One

I noticed something interesting as this period progressed. As each new kidney punch reared its ugly fist, the previous one seemed a bit less daunting. Thank heavens (literally), because if these things had compounded without any of them lessening in impact, I really think I might have checked out available beds in the nearest psych ward. God mercifully tamped out the flames of each current struggle as a new one entered the picture. Oh, a few embers remain, but they’re more reminders to exercise caution with certain people than flames waiting to be fanned.

Although, truth be told, embers can really go either way. If we tend to them properly, they’ll eventually become harmless. However, we can also nurse them back into a hearty fire if we choose.

That’s really the point. The choice is ours.

There’s a pithy saying about learning how to dance in the rain instead of waiting for non-stop sunny skies. I think that’s key. In this season of my life, where it seems I’m only a cloudburst away from each next downpour, I’m seeking God’s purpose for the storms. Having spent decades using ineffective strategies – running from difficulties, seeking escape, blaming others, or whipping myself with shame – I think it’s time for a change.

Weekend at Aaron’s

Shortly before Easter, I was feeling emotionally “hungover” by the trials in my life. Most had been semi-resolved, meaning while there was no active warring going on, neither was there an actual meeting of the minds. In short, truces had been declared, but we were a long way from civility.

I couldn’t imagine how God could turn these difficulties around. One came right on top of the other, each somehow worse than the last. My mind, often so forgetful about things that matter, was having no trouble at all revisiting each minor infraction over and Over and OVER again.

In the midst of all this, my son called begging for help. His wife, in her third trimester of pregnancy with an already much-loved baby boy, needed urgent medical care; could I please come stay with the other kids while he tended to her needs?

What mom could resist such a plea? Who would even want to? I was just starting my spring break from school, so the timing was perfect. I ended up spending the weekend, helping out and gathering gobs of joy from the little ones.

I collected a few other things, too, during my stay – an ugly stomach bug, which turned out to be the cause of my daughter-in-law’s symptoms, but more importantly, precious time with my son. His schedule is jam-packed with work and responsibilities, but we enjoyed a very low-key weekend while Elise and two of the kids recuperated from the virus. I got to know Aaron all over again, in a deeper way, while we chatted over the mundane but also the extraordinary.

And cradling my granddaughter while she was crying and her little body was heaving brought back sweet memories of mothering my own children when they were young. I don’t think it was any coincidence that I happened to be wearing my “Best Grandma Hands Down” t-shirt (which carries my first grandchild’s tiny handprints) while little Kira was throwing up on my shoulder.

Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?

We must never discount the creativity of the Lord when it comes to dealing with human frailty. I had been crying out to Him all week, powering up all the tools in my arsenal, but at best the fury was merely ebbing. It never completely subsided. The interruption caused by Aaron’s family emergency, combined with the sweet communion with my son and grandbabies (and my own subsequent illness), provided the break I needed from my own thought processes which were keeping me chained to bitterness.

I wish I could say all my resentments flowed away into an ocean of Godly forgiveness. That wouldn’t be honest. But I can attest to the fact that caring for my son’s family provided a welcome diversion from my angry thoughts and disappointed expectations. The abundant love in my heart for my family served to crowd out the ugliness that had been pervading my soul.

What a great God we serve! “How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!” (Romans 11:33)

The Evolution Piece

At age 60, I’m unwilling to give up this fight. If life is going to be a big, complicated ordeal on most levels, then so be it – but may I be found wrestling against attitudes that don’t please God when it’s my turn to stand before Him. While I have problems with Darwinism, it does make Biblical sense that humans can and should evolve behaviorally and spiritually:

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26)

“But you have not so learned Christ, if indeed you have heard Him and have been taught by Him, as the truth is in Jesus: that you put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and that you put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness.” (Ephesians 4:20-24, emphasis mine)

So, in addition to using the aforementioned strategies to combat resentment and feeling bogged down with problems, I’m trying out some new ones. Here are a few:

1.      Divert my focus away from the problem and onto God’s goodness (for example, instead of focusing on the latest worry or hurt feelings, I mentally shift gears to consider something positive and hopeful that God is doing in my life).

2.     Pray as much or more for those doing well in the Lord than for those in constant crisis. This redirects my attention from floundering ships and onto destination-bound vessels! This is not to suggest I give up on or mentally cast off troubled people; far from it! Rather, it affords me the opportunity to uphold believers who are growing and thriving in the Lord at least as much as I do for those who are struggling. The mental difference this makes is palpable.

3.      Realize God is using the circumstance, person, infraction to GROW ME! This amounts to taking the focus off the tool and placing it onto the One who is holding the tool!

4.      Notice the big picture, i.e., what I’m going through in the context of a greater plan. I’m currently teaching a Bible study called “To Whom Shall We Go?” which is derived from Peter’s answer to Jesus’s question about whether the disciples would ultimately stand by Him. Peter’s cavalier response and subsequent denial of our Lord should give all believers pause. It’s worth noting that we call our Bible study group the “Cord of Three Strands” to remind each other of the vital bond to which God calls the body of Christ. Within that framework, it behooves believers to buckle up! Where God’s people are communing together and striving to please Him, Satan will surely try to work his mischief. If Satan can take out the teacher, the students will surely suffer. Also, as a wise Bible mentor once explained to me, after God teaches His children a lesson, a test is sure to follow.

To sum up, I’m practicing making a conscious decision between nursing grudges or nurturing my relationship with the Lord, and noticing all He’s doing in the midst of (not the absence of) struggles – that’s the key! It's not feasible to keep getting all jumbled up inside. Too much emotional drama is draining; I simply can’t spend exorbitant amounts of time on every little rainstorm. It makes more sense to prayerfully commit each challenge to Him, then try not to overthink it. Sometimes this involves having to detach from people or situations that are more than I can handle. I may need to step back and minimize involvement for awhile to give God time to make my behavior more Christ-like.

Sweet Irony

Ironically, it seems this article itself has become a big project. I started it about a month ago, and it’s been weighing on my mind ever since. The whole thing has been written piecemeal, drawing from notes I’ve jotted hither and yon, and needing much revision to bring about a sensible product (I hope). Not all that different from giving birth, really (if the process by which God transforms the union of a seed and an egg into a full human isn’t a big project, I don’t know what is).

Which just goes to show our marvelous God knows how to tackle big projects one bit at a time.

The Curse of Jo March

The tags on this article cover everything. Anger. Resentment. Rejection. Grinch. Scrooge. Bitterness.

Bah humbug.

Fear not: I sound worse than I really feel, and I promise to end this post on a positive note.

When I first got the email this morning - two days before Christmas - that the manuscript I submitted eight months ago had been rejected - well, let's just say I felt like pulling my hair out.

Oh, and that's another thing. I've always had quite the mane, but lately, more than a few gray hairs are winding up in the brush and on the pillow.

Alopecia, anyone?

My prayer partner, too, is feeling bereft, for reasons of her own (not least of which is that corona fear has kept her under house arrest since March 13). That places her aggravation a good month and a half ahead of mine, since my book proposal didn't hit the agent's inbox till April 21. I guess if there's a prize for longest running exasperation, I'll have to defer to Tina.

Interestingly, I woke up wondering what message God would lay on my heart to share today or tomorrow. I always seem to receive an emphatic heavenly nudge right in the middle of my holiday hysteria, when it's least convenient to sit down and write. 

Somehow the Lord never seems to mind upending my schedule.

So, I find myself back to counting blessings. It's the soundest strategy I know for laying resentment where it belongs, in the dung heap with the rest of Satan's tactics.

And, oh, the blessings I still have to count, in a year when disease has stolen so many loved ones from family hearths and gouged gaping holes in legions of pocketbooks .

A daughter-in-law who sends a video of me cuddling my grandson and listening to his laughter, just when I'm missing my cherubs the most. Another soon-to-be daughter, who invites me to her family's Christmas table so I won't have to celebrate Christ's birth alone. Two loving, responsible sons who have been there for me more times than I can count. A host of trusted friends - some long standing, some arriving later in life - but all cherished and held dear. A school year that, while strange and challenging, includes an adorable student who even loves my singing and storytelling!

What was I upset about again?

After reading the agent's refusal, but before counting my blessings (which I was in no mood to do just then), I decided to cheer myself up by throwing a few ornaments on our heretofore barren Christmas tree. First on the list: my Little Women figurine of Jo March, aspiring author, but in her rightful place, just below Jesus.

There, lest we forget, is where all aspirations belong.

God bless us, everyone.

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say rejoice!" 

~Philippians 4:4~

"In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

 ~1 Thessalonians 5:18~

Check out this terrific tune from Matthew West: The Hope of Christmas

Thanksgiving Ruminations

The Thanksgiving theme continues in my house. Even though in my home the holiday consisted only of my son and me (due to possible COVID exposure in our family), we had a sweet time. The weekend was very low key and pleasant, providing ample time for catching up on life and some much appreciated R&R. I've been doing some reading (I always have four or five books going at a time, and a montage of articles; I'll never be "finished"), some resting, some cleaning, some chatting - just a lovely season of frolic without frenzy.

The Lord has seen fit to grant me another gift, one that will likely take a bit of time to fully "ripen," but that is well worth the wait.

Sunday's church and Bible study themes focused on Colossians 1:12-18 and Hebrews 12:12-17, both of which emphasize the truth of the first point in the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Confession. The crafters of this timeless document rightly characterized "the chief end of man" as the glorification of God and enjoyment of Him forever. 

Simply put, if we are to give Christ preeminence in all things (Colossians 1:18), pursue peace with all, seek holiness, and spurn bitterness (Hebrews 12:14-15), these endeavors pretty much open the floodgates of gratitude while simultaneously closing the lid on grudges. In the process, we glorify God by keeping our focus on Him, as opposed to giving heed to anyone or anything that seeks to undermine us.

Ah, but there's the rub.

In recent months, I've struggled with anger towards certain individuals and entities which I felt wronged me. Promises were broken and hopes dashed. At one point I was so enraged that I sat down and composed a gripe list which I directed to the Lord, who is, of course, fully capable of righting all these injustices, if only He would choose to do so! I sought the help of fellow believers, asking them to pray for fairness, but also for a changed heart for me. 

The latter is much more important than the former, so the Lord gave me an up close and personal lesson about how to keep a tender heart the other night. I was speaking with a Christian sister, whose circumstances could warrant far deeper resentment than any I might entertain. This particular person has experienced much disappointment on many levels over the years. Let me repeat that. I have watched my friend go through wearisome trials for quite a few years! 

As we caught up with each other's lives, she shared with me the details of the latest challenge she is facing. I might add that she didn't bring the subject up, but merely responded to an inquiry I made about something we had been praying over for her. Not only were her hopes not met, but the manner in which things played out added insult to injury.

I couldn't help myself. In complete puzzlement and awe of the equanimity with which she accepted her situation, I exclaimed, "How do you keep from becoming bitter?"

Her response? 

"You have to try to look at things through the eyes of God."

She went on to affirm her complete faith and utter trust that our great God will always take care of her, because He always has. In short, she will not allow grievances in this broken world to trump thankfulness for the riches she has in Christ.

Let me tell you, this writer was humbled. Humbled by my own lack of forgiveness, but even moreso by the attitude of this saint, who refuses to let life's difficulties and people's cruelty cheat her out of the joy of the Lord. 

So, again, I continue to celebrate Thanksgiving in my corner of the world. My friend reminded me of that crucial exercise the other night. Thanksgiving, despite adversity, unfairness, or unmet expectations. Thanksgiving in joy or sorrow, celestial happiness or crushing despair. 

What a gift I received from my dear friend, which my church leaders then underscored the following morning. Hands down, it's the best Christmas present I'll get this year... or ever.

Beats anything I could ever find under a pine needled tree.

Disappointment

I experienced a disappointment of sorts this past week. It set off the opportunity to clomp around with a chip on my shoulder, feeling irritated and wronged. The Lord, I muttered to myself, is playing games, dangling carrots He has no intention of letting drop into my expectant mouth. 

On top of this disagreeable development, I returned to work after a long and satisfying winter break (in my youth, we called it Christmas break, but that was back when society still smiled on nativity scenes and religious expression). Note, I'm not cuing violin strings to tremble for a spoiled state employee who enjoys long summer hiatuses. I'm merely stating the fact that it's tough to go back after vacation, especially as my job assignment is of a variable nature, and changes are the norm this year.

All that said, the other night I had what I think may have been a mini-panic attack. I felt my heart fluttering and emotions swirling. I could sense my jaw clenching and blood pressure jumping in the presence of family (who had nothing to do with the situation and were just being their sweet selves). I knew I was in a bad place. I decided to go to a quiet space and just deal with the agitation gripping me. 

I sat down and talked with the Lord. I asked blunt questions He may not have appreciated an underling voicing, and wrote Him letters of annoyance and complaint. In short, I poured out my frustration and resentment at His monumental gall in trying to train me in the boot camp I signed up for when I asked Him to save me.

You know what? Nothing changed. The carrot still wavered, although at a certain point I made a conscious decision to stop reaching for it. Work was still challenging, but I'm pleased to report the Lord met me each day on the job and together we completed the week (in fact, many aspects were quite rewarding). 

Nothing changed - except me.

"'Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, 
which you do not know.'"

Jeremiah 33:3

For more like this, check out: Heel Heal Part 2

I Am Peter Part 2

Taking one's own medicine is not for the fainthearted. It's Christmastime, season of all seasons to forgive and extend mercy, and yours truly has to admit again to having feet of clay. Let me tell you, slogging around in righteous indignation makes for some pretty clumsy steps.

Awhile back I angrily blogged about the lack of forgiveness someone in my world was showing to a repentant sinner who had wronged my children and me. How dare this person, I railed, hold a grudge on my behalf? Yet, here I stand in this season of peace on earth and good will toward men, finding myself in the same mindset for which I castigated others.

Matthew 7, anyone?

This time last year, my Lord offered me the privilege of extending grace to people who had hurt folks I love. They had also snubbed me, but in minor ways that affected my life only peripherally. In all honesty, I've been hurt far worse by much more skilled offenders; yet somehow my rage on this occasion was rancorous. True to form, over the holidays these individuals showed a callousness toward my family, and one member in particular, on whose behalf I seethed. What made their behavior so unconscionable (in my judgment-dispensing eyes) was that these wrongs were perpetrated by fellow believers!

When they entered the room, I quietly fumed to my conversation partners, whose puzzled looks and conciliatory comments contrasted starkly with my wrathful ones. I'm just telling it like it was; no point sugar-coating the ugly truth. I continued to vent in hushed tones to the select few who had the un-looked-for honor of being within hearing range.

Realizing, thanks be to God, that public accusations would only hurt the ones whose case I'd be pleading, I limited my diatribe to the aforementioned bewildered ears. Presently, the culprits greeted me (warmly), and I followed the course I had decided on the moment they set foot in the door: absolute coldness.

I hadn't seen them in years. There should have been much to talk about, but I eschewed polite conversation and instead spoke minimally and superficially. I feigned no interest in their (to my mind) self-absorbed lives. I suspect - no, I'm sure - they noticed, and probably felt hurt. Part of me cares, yet part of me rejoices that I accomplished what I set out to do: wound them the way they wounded the people who matter to me.

Fast forward to today. I'm in much the same mood. Critical, grumpy, un-pleasable (that may not be a word, but I'm breaking lots of rules today). As I sat (make that stewed) in Sunday school this morning, I made a mental checklist of all the sheep who weren't going along with the shepherd's agenda. They were interrupting his train of thought with questions, of all things! Such a recalcitrant flock, I grumbled to myself. A few in particular didn't meet with my approval; I passed judgment, then moved onto the next black sheep to be disapproved of.

In a few hours, I'll be hosting a belated birthday celebration for a dear friend who has miraculously managed to escape the ire I feel for all things breathing today. Between now and dinnertime, the Holy Spirit sure has a lot of work to do.

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: I Am Peter

The Road from Damascus

My father-in-law, Harry Williams, was a strong man of faith. He loved the Lord with all his heart, soul and strength. A good day for him included hours of paging through Scripture and marking up phrases that really spoke to him.


One of his unfulfilled bucket dreams was to write a book titled The Road from Damascus. He always thought too much emphasis was placed on the road to Damascus, which hosted the apostle Saul/Paul's conversion, rather than the events which sprang from it. I am neither a Bible scholar nor a great thinker. Nevertheless, the following is my clumsy attempt to highlight some of Saul/Paul's post-conversion activities as a posthumous gift to Pop, and perhaps bring a smile (and maybe a tear) to the faces of his progeny, who remember him as a man whose dearest possession was his salvation.

One of the things I find most interesting about Saul/Paul is that, after he became a believer, he spent three years getting to know God. My assumption is he realized he would have less than a warm reception by the early Christians, whom he had spent huge amounts of time persecuting prior to his conversion. This thinking is validated by the reaction of the Jews he preached to immediately after receiving the Holy Spirit: "'Is this not he who destroyed those who called on this name in Jerusalem, and has come here for that purpose, so that he might bring them bound to the chief priests?'" (Acts 9:21). They were quite understandably afraid and suspicious of Saul/Paul's motives. During this time of "lone wolfing" evangelism, God must have enhanced his early education as a Pharisee, and spoken His truth to him in prayer. Only after three years did he dare approach the core church in Jerusalem, and even then it took the sponsorship of Barnabas to gain him an audience with the disciples.

Another thing that resonates with me about Paul (I'll refer to him henceforth by the name he adopted after his encounter with Christ, thus distancing himself from his former life as the murderous Saul) is that he had a temper. Acts 15 records that he and Barnabas had a falling out over whether or not to take the latter's cousin, John Mark, with them on a missionary journey after being previously deserted by him. Paul chose to proceed instead with Silas, while Barnabas remained loyal to his cousin. Interestingly, Paul reconsidered his hasty decision later, as shown by his statement in 2 Timothy 4:11: "Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry." Perhaps the older Paul realized he was not so very different from Mark, in that both had to prove themselves to their brethren after committing some arguably unforgivable actions.

In Galatians 2:11, Paul recounts another heated confrontation, this time with the apostle Peter. Clearly, Paul struggled in the area of patience, especially as it concerned the gospel. Ironically, though, he labels himself "the chief sinner" in 1 Timothy 1:15. In Acts 22, he holds nothing back in describing his pre-conversion activities: "I persecuted this Way to the death, binding and delivering into prisons both men and women,  as also the high priest bears me witness, and all the council of the elders, from whom I also received letters to the brethren, and went to Damascus to bring in chains even those who were there to Jerusalem to be punished... So I said, 'Lord, they know that in every synagogue I imprisoned and beat those who believe on You. And when the blood of Your martyr Stephen was shed, I also was standing by consenting to his death, and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.'" (Acts 22:4-5, 19-20; see also Acts 26: 9-11). Paul's personality seemed to contain a hearty dose of self-assurance, tempered by a large helping of remorse. This combination could benefit many modern-day believers, whose recollections of their unregenerate sinfulness too often seem overshadowed by post-conversion self-righteousness.

The aspect of Paul's ministry with which I most identify is his way of witnessing. Rather than tracing Biblical history and quoting heavily from Scripture as Stephen and Peter did in their notable sermons, Paul often relied on his personal testimony to sway his audience. This method is encouraging to timid witnesses like me, who sometimes fear we have to be seminary graduates before we can adequately deliver the gospel. Paul, who was well-trained in Biblical studies, chose rather to personalize what God had done in his life, not only when training young believers like the Corinthians, but also when going up against "big guns" like Roman Governor Felix and Jewish King Agrippa.  While Paul's vast knowledge of Scripture comes through loud and clear in his epistles, he also understood the power of simple, heartfelt declaration of God's work in his life.

I think Pop was right. In researching these few brief points about Paul's life and ministry, I see how easy it would be to fill tomes on this apostle's contributions following his encounter with Christ. Thank you, Harry Williams, for providing the inspiration for this article.

 

Harry Williams holding his oldest grandchild, Kendra, with his wife, Betty, by his side.

Tantrum

Today I had a tantrum. It lasted maybe an hour and came complete with tears and a tirade. I basically told God I was angry with Him for withholding something that I was sure was in my best interest.

It's now 12:30 AM, about seven hours post-rant, and He is still choosing to remain mum on the subject.

I told Him I thought He was being unfair and unkind to me.

He didn't answer.

I declared that He was being mean in His method of handling (or rather, not handling) my request. I added that His strategy of dangling a carrot and then yanking it back (or so it appears to me, with my "see through a glass darkly" vision) is getting old. I told Him I had been down this road before with Him, and would prefer He come up with a different game plan.

Silence.

In desperation I called a friend, the same friend to whom I had confided my prayer request over the weekend. She calmly repeated her counsel from the other day, which in a nutshell is that God can't be confined to a timetable, and I needed to be patient and let Him work out His plan His own way.

I cried some more. I told her the ways in which God wasn't playing fair and how sorry I felt for myself. She reminded me that I've been inventorying my life in some areas, and that it made sense that some emotional "stuff" was "getting stirred up" as a result of that work.

I told her I had to go to work and didn't see how I could put on a happy face for my employer with eye shadow running all down my cheeks. She suggested doing some kind of rote activity like cleaning out my glove compartment before putting one foot in front of the other and showing up.

I took her advice and even managed to make small talk along with getting my job done (if my boss noticed my swollen eyes, she didn't mention it).

I'm not sure, but I think I sense the tiniest hint of a muscle developing somewhere inside of me. Not a bicep or a quad, but a waiting-induced, post-trauma (no, make that post-drama), labor-driven, nothing-left-to-do-but-hang-in-there bit of brawn. Not much to speak of, but something to build on.

Oh, and proving that God sometimes disguises Himself as His people, my dear friend called back to check on me later in the evening.

"Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

"No good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly." Psalm 84:11