On this day I see bruises, dotted around incisions covered in fresh scabs. Given enough time, they’ll turn into scars, joining the others that run across my abdomen. I see the inside of my eyelids as I fight the urge to nap, knowing that I won’t sleep tonight if I do. I see my water bottle, my snoring dogs, my Bible. I see the blanket covering my chilly legs and feet.
I see the after-effects of surgery.
I’m at the FEBC Gospel blog today. Head on over for the rest.
I so look forward to Thursday nights and the FMFParty. I love seeing how God connects women (and some men!) from different backgrounds and places. It’s a beautiful thing to see the body of Christ come together.
Linking up with Kate and the beautiful ladies (and handsome dudes). We: wait.
I’m terribly impatient. This may not always be apparent because I’m not emotionally demonstrative, but so often I’m stomping my internal foot. Why won’t he hurry up? Why doesn’t she get it? Why do I have to listen to this? Why do I have to go through this? Come on!
I hate waiting.
And so, of course, I’m given lots of opportunities to wait.
God likes to stretch us, doesn’t He?
There’s a particular situation that’s really been poking at me. I really want something to happen. I really want something to change. But the Spirit keeps telling me to keep silent. To hang back. To watch. To wait and see.
Also fascinating, as lately I’ve been pushing myself to be less silent. It’s strange to feel a pull in two directions and know that they’re both how God is leading. Speak up here and stay quiet there. Push through this and wait in that.
Yet in both the pushing and the waiting, I am learning (again) that I have zero control over the responses of others. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe God wants to show me where my responsibility ends and another’s beings. He is certainly teaching me that He wants me to wait on Him for direction. My plans get me nowhere. His plans get me everywhere.
So maybe waiting isn’t so bad.