day twelve
You Are
There's a song I've been singing tonight to God. It started as I began to pray for Passion in Washington DC, and the winter weather there. It's a song I used to sing as a little girl, one that David Cassidy sang. And maybe still sings. We can only hope. Here's part of it:
How's the weather? Weather or not, we're together
Together we'll see it much better
I love you, I love you forever
You know where I can be found
How can I be sure
In a world that's constantly changing?
How can I be sure?
I'll be sure with you.
How Can I Be Sure
As Steve finally sleeps soundly tonight after a week of hellish sickness and a diagnosis of most likely pneumonia (xrays will tell), there has been a quiet.
There has been a quiet all week actually, a silence from God - but not a separation from His Spirit. Just not answers to my questions. How can I be sure has been a question to Him all week. Sure I'm doing what you want me to, sure that You are listening to me...God just make me sure.
I know without any uncertainty God is with me and I know well every scripture that says He hears me. But does He really use prayer as much as I want to believe He does?
This is not a crisis of faith as much as me asking God to increase my faith. And in His silence I know He is increasing my faith. It's easy to believe in Him when everything is going our way.
How's the weather? Weather or not, we're together
I love you I love you forever.
You know where I can be found.
Those lines are as corny as love songs from the seventies get.
No matter what, Jesus and I, we're together. He always knows where I can be found. Praising Him one moment, doubting the next. Laying hands on someone one day and seeing Him heal; wondering why Steve is getting worse the next.
Tonight as I kiss the boys goodnight, we get into a talk about our old house and the old duck pond we used to walk to. Syd begins crying, still missing the neighborhood he spent the first 9 years of his life, now an almost brave 10-year-old. Nevermind that we never talked to a soul while we lived there, it's all about the trees and the ducks and the streets. But I get that and I miss it too. "Here there are lots of kids," he says sadly, "there it was only old people." What do you say to that? To a child who is ready for retirement?
At every point in his sadness, I try to interject with a happy thought of where we are now. "And now we have Scout, and this is the only home he knows," I say. "Oh, that just makes me think of another dog, of Moose," says Syd with fresh tears. Soon Ben is crying in the other bed. "My ants," he says, "my ants are all dead." Again, nevermind that they have been dead for a good six months and that they were fire ants that attacked every time you tried to feed them in their little plastic dirt-filled mound.
I am tired, but the happy thoughts still need to be spoken. "Hey," I say, "Sea World has a Shamu praise show this season." I laugh as soon as I say it, the idea sounding ridiculous. Syd begins to laugh, then Ben. "How does Shamu praise God?" I wonder. "By not eating the man riding him?"
They finally fall asleep as we keep talking.
How can I be sure
In a world that's constantly changing?
How can I be sure?
I'll be sure with you.
There's a song I've been singing tonight to God. It started as I began to pray for Passion in Washington DC, and the winter weather there. It's a song I used to sing as a little girl, one that David Cassidy sang. And maybe still sings. We can only hope. Here's part of it:
How's the weather? Weather or not, we're together
Together we'll see it much better
I love you, I love you forever
You know where I can be found
How can I be sure
In a world that's constantly changing?
How can I be sure?
I'll be sure with you.
How Can I Be Sure
As Steve finally sleeps soundly tonight after a week of hellish sickness and a diagnosis of most likely pneumonia (xrays will tell), there has been a quiet.
There has been a quiet all week actually, a silence from God - but not a separation from His Spirit. Just not answers to my questions. How can I be sure has been a question to Him all week. Sure I'm doing what you want me to, sure that You are listening to me...God just make me sure.
I know without any uncertainty God is with me and I know well every scripture that says He hears me. But does He really use prayer as much as I want to believe He does?
This is not a crisis of faith as much as me asking God to increase my faith. And in His silence I know He is increasing my faith. It's easy to believe in Him when everything is going our way.
How's the weather? Weather or not, we're together
I love you I love you forever.
You know where I can be found.
Those lines are as corny as love songs from the seventies get.
No matter what, Jesus and I, we're together. He always knows where I can be found. Praising Him one moment, doubting the next. Laying hands on someone one day and seeing Him heal; wondering why Steve is getting worse the next.
Tonight as I kiss the boys goodnight, we get into a talk about our old house and the old duck pond we used to walk to. Syd begins crying, still missing the neighborhood he spent the first 9 years of his life, now an almost brave 10-year-old. Nevermind that we never talked to a soul while we lived there, it's all about the trees and the ducks and the streets. But I get that and I miss it too. "Here there are lots of kids," he says sadly, "there it was only old people." What do you say to that? To a child who is ready for retirement?
At every point in his sadness, I try to interject with a happy thought of where we are now. "And now we have Scout, and this is the only home he knows," I say. "Oh, that just makes me think of another dog, of Moose," says Syd with fresh tears. Soon Ben is crying in the other bed. "My ants," he says, "my ants are all dead." Again, nevermind that they have been dead for a good six months and that they were fire ants that attacked every time you tried to feed them in their little plastic dirt-filled mound.
I am tired, but the happy thoughts still need to be spoken. "Hey," I say, "Sea World has a Shamu praise show this season." I laugh as soon as I say it, the idea sounding ridiculous. Syd begins to laugh, then Ben. "How does Shamu praise God?" I wonder. "By not eating the man riding him?"
They finally fall asleep as we keep talking.
How can I be sure
In a world that's constantly changing?
How can I be sure?
I'll be sure with you.