Whacked

Remember the game Whack-a-Mole? I feel like the mole. Every time I stick my head out, it gets beaned.

Just in the last few days, drive to town: WHACK. Car dies. Work on your marriage. WHACK. People fail. Go to your cancer appointment with hope. WHACK. You still have cancer. You crushed down old memories and stubbed out the pain in a pile of ashes. WHACK. Memories never die.

When I am about to drift out into the abyss, when the Rock that is the object of my faith seems like just another iceberg in a rough sea, something has to tether me. This day, it was my daughter's hand. She - innocent, eager, trusting - tethered me, bitter, worn, weary. As the King says, I can guarantee this truth: Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3) As she looks up at me, cherishes me, wonders at me, and wants to be like me, I simply cannot utter the words that come rushing to my lips...anger, bitterness, irritation, disbelief. Where is God's mercy, where is hope, where are promises and blessings? I'm not sure, but I'm not going to destroy her hope along with mine.

Satan composes a broken Hallelujah that seduces.

My word for 2010 was abide. Stay, remain, to wait, pause, delay; to sojourn, to endure, sustain, submit to; to tolerate; to suffer for. I guess this is where the rubber hits the road, right off the bat in February.

Since my words are so corrosive today, I will leave it at this. I found this encouraging. A bright spot in a dark day.

When darkness fills the valley
Fear and dread strive deep within us
But our burdens soon will be lifted
When these old homes turn to dust

~When He Calls, Emmylou Harris