Thursday, January 17, 2013

A cow in the wrong place at the right time.

You haven't blogged for a while.

I'll be honest. I have nothing good to say.

It's the part of my heart that turns black and hard. It's when all the little pains build-up into a virus of attack on my soul.

I grab a Werther's Original to mask the bitter taste of my coffee.

Why can't my child eat food with substance? Her fix of orange will only lead to hunger sooner than later.
The washer of wet towels needs to be put in the dryer, otherwise I will have to rewash them like I did the last load that I let sit wet for two days.
Is your noon appointment still open? I text. I'll make getting a hair cut and wrestling a child happen as long as I get this mass of hair thinned-out and shaped.
The toilet needs to be replaced.
I need to paint that room.
Why do they believe that monster of a man-made lie?
I have complete faith, and still mountains are standing still.
Why don't people talk? 
The dog just went out, how can she need to pee again?
I didn't get around to brushing my teeth until evening yesterday. Not to self: brush teeth after coffee.
Coffee doesn't even sound good today, why am I drinking it?
How much more can I pray? 
Ignorance does not lead to bliss. It leads to hell.
Take this anger I feel inside.
No text back. Sigh.
Perhaps I should follow her lead and eat some fruit--Oreo it is.
Can His coming just be today? 

And that list of ugly could continue on, manifesting its roots deeper into my flesh.

Then she sends me a picture of a cow walking through my old backyard. As if knowing that my head is going to explode from the pressure--crying baby, barking dog, a list of the have-to-dos, lies, anxiety, anger--a cow in the wrong place at the right time.


You are good, and I adore you. I'm sorry for each time I complain and doubt Your authority and power. Please forgive me for not trusting that all the problems I face are being handled by You. Let me lean on You and rest in Your grace. Thank you for the cow. Thank you for loving me in my ugly. All glory and honer go to You. 

In Jesus Holy and Mighty name I pray, Amen.

1-6 God, investigate my life;
    get all the facts firsthand.
I’m an open book to you;
    even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
    I’m never out of your sight.
You know everything I’m going to say
    before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you’re there,
    then up ahead and you’re there, too—
    your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
    I can’t take it all in!
7-12 Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
    to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you’re there!
    If I go underground, you’re there!
If I flew on morning’s wings
    to the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute—
    you’re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
    At night I’m immersed in the light!”
It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;
    night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.

13-16 Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
    you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
    Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
    I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
    you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
    how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
    all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
    before I’d even lived one day.

17-22 Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
    God, I’ll never comprehend them!
I couldn’t even begin to count them—
    any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!
    And please, God, do away with wickedness for good!
And you murderers—out of here!—
    all the men and women who belittle you, God,
    infatuated with cheap god-imitations.
See how I hate those who hate you, God,
    see how I loathe all this godless arrogance;
I hate it with pure, unadulterated hatred.
    Your enemies are my enemies!

23-24 Investigate my life, O God,
    find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
    get a clear picture of what I’m about;
See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong—
    then guide me on the road to eternal life.
Psalm 139 MSG

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