My biological clock is ticking. No, not that one...that alarm is done going off. The clock that says school has started and I should be wearing a sweater and drinking hot apple cider, except that I am sitting outside and it is 78 degrees and sunny. I'm not really complaining, mind you. I'm just ready for a change. I guess I will have to surrender to the weather because I don't have any control over it anyway. That's God's department.
There's a lot of things that I should surrender control over but I don't. I won't say I can't because I truly feel that anything we claim not to be able to do is a choice we are making. Some things are just harder than others. So I won't say that I can't surrender control of some things, just that it is really hard. Like my husband's walk to faith.
Once again, I felt God calling me, telling me, to give Rob's journey to Him. As I sat in church this morning (by myself*) singing "Savior, He can move a mountain, my God is mighty to save..." I heard Him speaking to me through the words. I am trying to move a mountain one spoonful at a time, and it is really not going that well. The mountain doesn't particulary want to be moved, and I am getting tired of the lack of progress I am making.
For an added eye opener, I was reminded that I am not respecting God when I try to do His job. His timing is perfect. Mine, not so good. God does not honor a pout, and my husband doesn't do so well with that either. So, once again, I will give my husband back to God. I'm not sure what that will look like, and I will need His help to be gracious about it. Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a season for everything. I'm sure God has a reason for Rob's eyes still being half-closed. Maybe for me to learn surrender, gracefully, without a door slam on the way out.
*I say I was by myself, but not for long. I sat with a new friend today. I'm never really alone at church anyway, because the One I came to meet is always there.
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ReplyDeleteMy sister left this on my FB and I wanted to share with my non-FB readers.
ReplyDeleteDeb, I read your post and it made me think of the "no thank you helpings" we grew up taking at most holidays when we were kids. It took til I was 21 to like rutabagas - who knows how many mouthfuls I pouted through. I am sure Mom served those more often than holidays, but I only remember having to taste them on special occasions. Rob sits by you for the big ones - his "no thank you helpings" - and maybe someday he'll think it isn't so bad. But you of the many kids knows how hard it is to get a spoon into tightly closed lips. Rob knows the plate is in front of him; let him "taste and see that the Lord is good" when he is ready. And you, my dear sister, take a slow deep breath...the spoon isn't really in your hand anyway. Trac-