This fall has been a hard one in various ways. Relational serpents deceive. Fallen deceived, mourn. The sin ripples spread, through family, friends. I medicate myself with decorating and tea. Only to come broke and bladder full on my knees at last. I come to the God who's comfort is free and decaffeinated. The God who never medicates, only heals. The healer of souls.
Sunday in service, Brian prayed, and one of his God pictures resonated. He prayed, reveling in the fact that God "never loses control." My mind flashed back to earlier that week when Avonlea's bad judgement on the use of her limbs intermingled with the dinner I had just pulled out of the oven and sent it sprawling with a juicy, lip-smackin splat, on the kitchen floor. I didn't say anything other than "are you okay?" but I picked up the spatula and hurled it across the kitchen. Ahhh, yes that's what I need to cling to, my God who never loses control.
And so my husband and I pray for sisters, and nieces, and friends, and circumstances that are utterly beyond our power or influence. We pray and release them fully to a completely competent Father.
The other night Grant looked at me with the love of the ages in his eyes and said "You should have been Jesus' mother." I smiled my wan smile and said "I don't think Jesus's mother would throw spatulas." Grant replied "Oh anyone could have done that!" I laughed, yes anyone could, most of us have, but God never will.