This is Black Friday and chances are Jennifer Fulwiler isn't doing 7 Quick Takes today. I thought I would use this day to be thankful for my crosses.
I remember when I was in sixth grade noticing the long slender fingers of a classmate and wondering when my fingers would grow long and pretty. They never did. They are short and stubby like the rest of me. Sometimes when I see myself in the mirror it is a shock because in my mind I am thinner and taller and prettier than that old woman I see looking back at me. Sometimes I wonder who she is. That has always been a cross for me, not to look the way I would like to. Thank You, Lord, for the humility it has taught me.
I never used birth control. I was a nursing mother, earth mother type who wanted children. Probably one of my biggest fears was having an only child because one of my best friends was an only child. I thought that part of her was the only thing wrong with her. Having only one living child is hard. I was over protective of him and thankful for him, but I missed all those other children I wanted to hold. And although I have more than once screamed at God, "Why, why, why?" I have learned to accept and be grateful for what I have. And now, where are the grandchildren? But, this allows me to know that God is God and I am not. Where was I when He was creating the earth and everything in it, so who and I to question that this is the way things are supposed to be. Thank You, Lord, for this cross of wanting.
I could probably go on and on with crosses, but I will end with this one--my ankle. My ankle has tendon problems. It often hurts, a lot. I have seen doctors about it. I don't really like the plans I have heard for it. None of the plans seem to be one to make it better like it used to be. I think I will probably always have problems with this ankle. The crosses and the pain and the lack of movement that the pain causes me to do. At least the pain is something to offer up. But, it is hard to be thankful for it. But, somewhere within this mystery of pain and suffering is joy. Thank You, Lord, for this gimpy ankle. (And thanks for online shopping so I don't have to drag myself out shopping with my limp.)
I remember when I was in sixth grade noticing the long slender fingers of a classmate and wondering when my fingers would grow long and pretty. They never did. They are short and stubby like the rest of me. Sometimes when I see myself in the mirror it is a shock because in my mind I am thinner and taller and prettier than that old woman I see looking back at me. Sometimes I wonder who she is. That has always been a cross for me, not to look the way I would like to. Thank You, Lord, for the humility it has taught me.
I never used birth control. I was a nursing mother, earth mother type who wanted children. Probably one of my biggest fears was having an only child because one of my best friends was an only child. I thought that part of her was the only thing wrong with her. Having only one living child is hard. I was over protective of him and thankful for him, but I missed all those other children I wanted to hold. And although I have more than once screamed at God, "Why, why, why?" I have learned to accept and be grateful for what I have. And now, where are the grandchildren? But, this allows me to know that God is God and I am not. Where was I when He was creating the earth and everything in it, so who and I to question that this is the way things are supposed to be. Thank You, Lord, for this cross of wanting.
I could probably go on and on with crosses, but I will end with this one--my ankle. My ankle has tendon problems. It often hurts, a lot. I have seen doctors about it. I don't really like the plans I have heard for it. None of the plans seem to be one to make it better like it used to be. I think I will probably always have problems with this ankle. The crosses and the pain and the lack of movement that the pain causes me to do. At least the pain is something to offer up. But, it is hard to be thankful for it. But, somewhere within this mystery of pain and suffering is joy. Thank You, Lord, for this gimpy ankle. (And thanks for online shopping so I don't have to drag myself out shopping with my limp.)