Is God Big Enough?

It's so sweet. People worry about me. When I call with a need, folks lay down their lives on a moment's notice and take up my cause. These people are the hands, feet, ears, voices of Jesus to me, and I am so grateful. I am overwhelmed with the generosity and kindness of mankind and God Himself. So, I don't want anyone to fret about what I'm about to write. It's just my feelings at this time.

I always thought I was so busy in my former life, and I was. I took Tater to football, attended Peace's cross country meets, made sure Wise One got friend time, and played lots of Uno with Pooh Bear. While I still do these things and work, it's in a much smaller window than I'd ever dreamed, and I hope and pray it's enough. Having three determined teen boys and a strong-willed, beautiful little girl in the house feels like the perfect storm at times. I ask myself frequently, "Is God big enough to take on these broken hearts?" My head says,"Yes", but I admit that my heart has doubts. This is especially true when my oldest states with all honesty, "The only thing I want, I'll never have." I wonder if I'm selfish and sacrificing my children at some level for simply wanting dignity following a tragedy. It's a terrifying thought. This is where I try to lean into the knowledge that God is quite big enough to cover me and all my mistakes.

I determined when I was twenty-two or so to have a life so well-lived that I'd never have regrets. I naively thought I could make it happen, but then life hit like a hundred ton steam train screeching off the tracks. I have regrets stacked like red bricks around an untended secret garden. I promise I don't look at them and agonize all the time. In fact, I'm learning to let go, really let go and move on. I can't tell you how many times when a new horrible consequence pops up, I answer the question of a concerned friend, "How are you doing after..." I say, "It's not happening right now, so I'm fine." Kinda like Scarlet O'Hara saying, "I'll think about that another day" but really meaning it. I just don't want more bricks of regret in my stack if I can help it. It's not easy watching my children suffer from my choices- though they may be very healthy choices for me.

This morning I woke for my morning prayers. I found myself approaching God with an an agenda, my agenda, and of course, it wasn't going well. I felt like I was trying to force God to answer me without being willing to listen. How would that ever work? So, I laid my thoughts aside and struggled just to be, just to remain in the Healing Presence. Man, I must have some big issues under all the junk on my brain, but apparently I'm not ready to deal.

I'm currently wrestling with the fine line between disappointment, mourning and resentment. I am stumped about what constitutes resentment. Wouldn't it include feelings of revenge or getting in a jab? I just don't have that in me. or at least I believe I don't. Hurting someone else in my own pain doesn't make sense. However, I was born with an unsinkable sense of justice, and I worry I hide resentment under the guise of healthy boundaries taking form in the wide-legged stance of "Don't tread on me."

If you have any thoughts or stories on resentment, I'd like you to share. I'm looking for clarity.

New Beginnings Again

I feel like such a big girl now. I worked a forty hour work week for the first time since before the personal cell phone came into fashion. Everyday I dress up like a grown up, get the kids up and on a school bus, and drive ten minutes tops to an office. I pull records, make phone calls, invite folks into to sit down beside me and talk about truck driving. Do you think the drivers know that I have never been behind the wheel of an eighteen wheeler? Oh, yeah. It's obvious, but I have learned some new things about another world I'd never known this week. It's like Avatar for me on so many levels. I put on my Avatar trucking self, by the way which I think will be named Catfish (wink to Kayce), and explore a brand new culture. Drivers are from all walks of life, and I have a new respect for the smarts it takes to drive safely and wisely. These people work so hard and so long away from home for long stretches of time.

Now onto the home front.

My children are quite into the school routine now after 2 1/2 months, even the two who never set foot inside a public school before. I am so grateful I did not have to spit them into the system the day I got a job, because no routine would have been established. The timing on finding work is impeccably God's. I squeezed in an entire Christmas season before employment with my young 'uns as well. I will try to look back on the treasure of sixteen years at home with joy instead of dwelling on the abrupt, unplanned end. It's a force of sheer will for me not to nit pick all the things I do not appreciate concerning the disservices done to children sometimes in an institution. I advocate and work hard to keep a positive attitude instead. Time home and homeschooling has been a sweet ride, and I've been one lucky woman to have had it.

Clifford is a perfectly beautiful home now. The blessings and handyman skilz of Andy, Buddy, Jack, and Don have created showers, kitchens, closets, walls where none had been before. I and an army of friends have covered the walls in paint with more colors than present in a rainbow. I look forward at to spring and creating a new truevyne garden. Stop on by for dinner if you're close.

I am loving my new job. It's such an answer to prayer for me. It includes things like:

cultural diversity
challenging work
helping sometimes reluctant people
great hours
good pay and benefits

I especially like that the two people I work closest with love to laugh.

I'm looking for a CB handle for myself. Any suggestions? It has to be trucker savvy.

Life is good.

Starting a full time job tomorrow. I haven't held a job in literally sixteen years, besides being a trainer for CGS and writing. Though even I couldn't be more surprised, I'll be working in the trucking industry helping with driving logs. I think it will be interesting. Maybe some good blog tales may come of it.

Wish me luck.

The Fifth Season by Frederick Ohler

For four seasons
and all the cycles within them
within us and without us
for periods, tides, phases
for birth and growth and decline and death
thank You, God.
To live is to have rhythm
and time is the signature on all Your compositions.

Forgive us that
too often we fight against the rhythm
trying to be twenty when we’re fifty,
craving adulthood when we're still children
coveting summer when it’s winter,
detesting the heat when it’s July,
too often unwilling
to let go and let You be
in. Your good time.

Forgive us no less when we worship Chronos,
cower before clocks
schedule surprises
and tick our lives to death.

We are not Canaanites, we are Christians
and for us there is a fifth season.
You became flesh
that flesh might become You.
Love invaded time
and love is the fifth season
not bound by daylight time
or standard time
or Pacific time
or troubled time
or any time.
always seasoned, always seasoning
as old as ‘in the beginning’
as permanent as forever,
as new
as now
as possible as Christ.
Make Him possible in us.
Amen.

This is my prayer for the New Year. Would you like to join me?

Peace turns 16 tomorrow. Um, really? Someone find the brakes and put them on time. Fast.

We're celebrating Pooh Bear's birthday instead with a huge little girl birthday party. Hardly seems fair.

Attended my usual DeLo New Year's Eve party. I can't remember laughing so long and so hard in a very long time. Something to do with that crazy SNL skit about the woman with baby hands on Lawrence Welk and Helen's dance moves to "Don't Stop Believin'". She totally rocked it. Picture a serious expression, full body sway, jerking head, and dramatic arm waving during "up and down the boulevard". Then there was the overheard comment during our slam dance to the Ramones about what that kind of dancing does to women's bodies who have given birth too many times.

I'm seriously looking for a job in Knoxville. Call me with leads in town friends.
Tough time to enter the job market after sixteen years of stay-at-home momness.