Here I sit in the middle of another road asking God what he needs me to do. All he whisper is, “Try.”
Through my questions, I learned that God gave my sister a miracle. He provided my family with one too. He allowed us to know this incredible woman. He gave her the gift of salvation and eventually brought her to Heaven. And He showed me that it was okay to grieve, and that it made me a real woman with real emotions.
The dialogue must ensue and One is a great conversation starter. It serves as a complimentary piece to many available resources regarding the history of racism and systemic oppression inherent in the founding of our nation.
Just like this hillside, my soul has been scorched by fiery trials. For many years, I waded through the thick black smoke as my soul was left desolate, dry, and gasping for air. All signs of life were stripped away, leaving only a remnant of skeletal remains. I felt forsaken and forgotten. It was hard to imagine my soul flourishing again.
I heard God whispering to my heart when I read that story. You like to bake…what is his favorite dessert? I remembered how much he liked cheesecake. Working up my nerve, I invited him over for supper on a Sunday night. He agreed, and I prepared our home, a special meal, and my heart for his arrival.
I, like Pontius Pilate, have a change of heart when presented with the reckoning.
Husband and I lay, backs on the bed staring at the ceiling, no kids at home. Finally, time alone. How would we spend this time? Would it be as all the times before? Pretending we weren’t hurt? Hovering surface level?