Monday, December 15, 2014

I Believed a Lie

I believed that life could be perfect.  What a ridiculous notion of Utopia.  All you have to do is kill off half the population and zap there you have it.  Of course you lose the insight and love of children with Down's Syndrome, the sheer genius of Aspergers, and the loving satisfaction of loving someone to the very end of their lives.

My goodness, I didn't even believe in divorce.  Not that I don't believe in marriage and committment.  Not that I don't believe in saying till death do us part.  I believe all that but I also believe now in letting the unbelieving partner depart.  Letting them go.  For goodness sake, God believes in free will.  I can, too.  If you read that whole section that deals with letting the unbeliever go, it says we are called to peace.  Peace is very important in life.  The older you get, the more you realize that there are really few things that are worth losing your peace over.  Things, let them have it.  I know it is a lot easier to let go of things gradually then to have them stolen or demanded.  Rewrite the event and in your mind see yourself as giving them up.

But again, I was talking about the lie I believed.  I believed that life could be perfect.  That I had to have everything perfect well because I had my eternal future perfect. I thought everything could be perfect down here.  All of course except my sometimes messy house.  Even then, I was demanding of myself and others.  That makes things uncomfortable and just plain unrealistic. Things happen.  Things unravel.  Things fall apart.  Things break apart.

I've learned I am not perfect.  My faith is on someone who is yet he gives me space. He knows I am weak yet loves me completely.  Completely.  Savor the word.  With all my frailties, faults, and especially weaknesses.  I need the Lord.  We all need the Lord.  I am surrendering all of who I am so that I can walk with Him.  He holds my hand and walks with me and I with Him.  I can run and fall, and He picks me up.  He helps me shake it off.  He says, "It's okay. You can do this."  Like last night, I was with my mom at the hospital and I came up to a rock and a hard place.  Literally.  I had been up all night, half dozing, half watching my mom trying to remove her bothersome oxygen cord to her nose.  I would often doze off and she would wait for it and then reach for the cord.  We played this game at least a half dozen times.   Then suddenly when I finally dozed off and mom did too, a man gently but happily woke me up. It was time to go to the newly assigned room which I hoped was a private room.  When we arrived, it wasn't.   To my dismay, it didn't even have a cot.  Ay Dios mio. 

What was I to do?  I had a blanket, a pillow, and a very hard floor. I also had my car outside and it was three thirty in the morning.  Walk out to the very dark parking lot or stay and take care of my frail mom.  Wasn't that for what I was there?  How could I possible do it?  I looked down on the floor and looked at everything I had available.  A sheet, a towel, a pair of velvet pants, a pillow and a blanket.  "You can do this, " the Lord whispered.  So I put all the stuff down, I doubled the pillow over and slept on my side.  I do admit I had to arrange and rearrange the blanket, but I was able to do it.  I slept soundly for two hours, and then I got two chairs together.  It was not a recliner but I reclined as best I could and rested for another two hours.  I did it.

This unperfect situation taught me something that I would never had known if hadn't faced it. I can persevere.  I can hang in there.  I can make it.  Those are important lessons.

If it had to be perfect,  if I had to be perfect, I would have never known.

Have a Merry Christimas, with the Messiah, the Christ, who was not welcomed in the inn, yet had even angels singing for him and an entourage of shepherds worship him.  The only thing that makes it perfect is a heart full of love for Him and his heart full of love for us.

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