it's a mystery
I saw something in a facebook memory this morning that reminds me that, as much as I'd like to pretend I'm in control of anything in my life; I'm not. The funny thing is it was a memory from two years ago that kind of balled that theme up with the idea of God making me deal with some unpleasant things from the past.
I'm mindful that it was sometime this week nine years ago that Wendi left. It's not a scab wound anymore; it's sufficiently healed to the scarred point. I realized that when I was helping her chase her little one down in the front yard. All I did was go out to check the mail and wound up wrangling a kid. I was eating a tangerine. Her daughter was crying, so I was then not eating a tangerine but giving it to her and giving her a hug and trying to dry her tears. That's a long way from nine years ago.
I got a text from said ex yesterday about an insurance matter. It took me until yesterday to finally get her off all my insurances. I had no idea. I filed the paperwork years ago. A quick 30 minute phone call resolved the last matter. For the fight it was to get to do this, the end-end was relatively simple. They didn't argue. They just fixed it.
A bit of mail in the box reminds me that it was no accident I was forced to have to deal with my former roommate. It wasn't as hard as I thought. Sometimes you just have to realize the hardest apologies you're ever going to have to accept are the ones you feel you're owed and never get. Grace is an amazing thing; when you realize what God has forgiven you, suddenly the wrongs and slights you suffer in life don't seem to hold the significance they once did.
I have friends who are going through stuff. Stuff that hurts them where they are as much as my own stuff hurts me. I'm reminded too that God is the author of the story; and often times that story is a mystery. I quit pretending a long time ago to understand what God's plan is. I understand a direction. I have no idea how we're going to get there. Despite copius amounts of prayers, request, begging, yelling, etc... I have to understand that I may not get there today. Or tomorrow. But if I knew the day, what good would faith and hope do me?
These are things that are very far removed from what I was thinking about first thing this morning. I had one thing to do today. I accomplished it. I have some chores I'll tend to directly, but the one thing that I had to finish for tomorrow is done. Wrangling kids, dealing with my ex, sending back mail, well, those things just remind me of the memory I saw on Facebook, which in turns points me back to the author of my story.
And for what it's worth, I think it's a compelling one He's writing.
I'm mindful that it was sometime this week nine years ago that Wendi left. It's not a scab wound anymore; it's sufficiently healed to the scarred point. I realized that when I was helping her chase her little one down in the front yard. All I did was go out to check the mail and wound up wrangling a kid. I was eating a tangerine. Her daughter was crying, so I was then not eating a tangerine but giving it to her and giving her a hug and trying to dry her tears. That's a long way from nine years ago.
I got a text from said ex yesterday about an insurance matter. It took me until yesterday to finally get her off all my insurances. I had no idea. I filed the paperwork years ago. A quick 30 minute phone call resolved the last matter. For the fight it was to get to do this, the end-end was relatively simple. They didn't argue. They just fixed it.
A bit of mail in the box reminds me that it was no accident I was forced to have to deal with my former roommate. It wasn't as hard as I thought. Sometimes you just have to realize the hardest apologies you're ever going to have to accept are the ones you feel you're owed and never get. Grace is an amazing thing; when you realize what God has forgiven you, suddenly the wrongs and slights you suffer in life don't seem to hold the significance they once did.
I have friends who are going through stuff. Stuff that hurts them where they are as much as my own stuff hurts me. I'm reminded too that God is the author of the story; and often times that story is a mystery. I quit pretending a long time ago to understand what God's plan is. I understand a direction. I have no idea how we're going to get there. Despite copius amounts of prayers, request, begging, yelling, etc... I have to understand that I may not get there today. Or tomorrow. But if I knew the day, what good would faith and hope do me?
These are things that are very far removed from what I was thinking about first thing this morning. I had one thing to do today. I accomplished it. I have some chores I'll tend to directly, but the one thing that I had to finish for tomorrow is done. Wrangling kids, dealing with my ex, sending back mail, well, those things just remind me of the memory I saw on Facebook, which in turns points me back to the author of my story.
And for what it's worth, I think it's a compelling one He's writing.
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