The following is a post I wrote several days ago...It is definitely deeper than my usual rants on crafting & decorating, but sometimes that's how life is...
For those of you who know me only from the words you've read on this blog, and for those who know my name and see me every few days as we pass each other on life's path, and for those who read me now, but haven't really known me for quite a while, I'd like to introduce myself. Again.
I'm the people you see in the picture above. I'm made up of a part of my sister (to the far left of me in the picture), and my brother (right beside me on the left), my husband (right beside me on the right), and even my brother-in-law (in the far left). And even all these kids are making me who I am. (My son is the cute 12-year-old boy & my 3 girls are the ones in red. My nieces are in black.) I'm also made up of my husband's side of my family and my precious grandparents who aren't pictured here. But, mostly, I think I'm a product of my parents (pictured at the top), who've given me so much more than physical life.
I've written a lot about my parents in the past in other places besides here. And today, I'm compelled, again, to express what they mean to me. And, if by writing, I can remind myself of the rarity they are, and possibly influence myself or others to be like them, then I've truly accomplished something.
Today, the enemy visited me. Of course I never heard him, or saw him, but he came. He's studied me so well, that he knew the precise time to come that would perturb me most. When I was fully engulfed in something I love, he came to ruin it. His attack was really difficult to take at the time, and for a few moments by myself, I couldn't think to do anything but just cry. I'm sure he enjoyed that. Seeing me begin to feel the pain of defeat. But, we really weren't the only ones there.
God saw the whole thing, too. And while I began to get sucked into the cycle of sadness, then anger, then defeat, then vengeance, he whispered in my heart the words to help me stop the cycle. "Ask Dad. He knows."
And so I did. I dialed through my tears, then explained to my mom the scenario that had transpired just a few moments before. She simply said, "I'll talk to Dad and we'll call you back."
And when he called, I poured out my heart just like I was 10 years old again. He listened to every word and comforted me like only my dad can. And then he delivered in his calm, wise words, the message that God wanted me to hear. And every part made perfect sense, leaving me to wonder again why I couldn't realize it all on my own. He challenged me to let God take care of it all. Not to make the choice to barge in and force it all to go my way. Not to say the things to certain people that were dying to be said. Because doing those things would only give the victory to the enemy. Which is why he came to visit in the first place.
I've never heard God's voice. But I know what He sounds like. I've not yet seen His face, but my mom & dad have shown me time after time what He looks like. And because I don't know how long we'll be on this earth without really seeing Him, I have to learn right now how to show other people what He looks like as well. I have to help my kids hear His voice when tragedy strikes. Will my husband and I be able to do that like my parents have for me? We have to. There's nothing else to pass down. If we were the wealthiest of people, there would still be nothing else to pass down. It's the greatest inheritance my parents could give us. They've been giving it all my life.