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Monday, June 2, 2008

'This is the resting place, let the weary rest:'

To say I have been through a blogging dry spell is an understatement. I haven't written because, for over a year now, I've felt there was nothing worth writing about. But writing is an outlet for me. I think better with my keyboard that a journal and pen. SO here it goes....again.

Since my Dad died 41 days ago, God and I have had a lot of conversations that I've been putting off. Taking with a friend, I mentioned that I felt really abandoned by God over the past year. The song, "Blessed Be the Name" has been an a heart song for me. Lately, though, the chorus has seemed more like "He takes and takes away" more than "He GIVES and takes away." I've been talking to Him about this. And it has helped.

Then the next line gets me. My heart will "CHOOSE" to say "Blessed be the Name." I know (in my head) a lot of good, TRUE stuff. But through this crushing time, I am having to choose what to believe in and act upon. A wise professor once said, "It is our choices...that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Choices matter. Right now I am trying my best to choose to let these hard times to dare me to HOPE. For me HOPE is a scary thing because it has made me a fool too many times. I have to choose between "Don't wish, don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart." and "trust in the Lord with ALL your heart and lean not on your own understanding."

Hopelessness has constricted and withered my heart over this past year. It's rendered God's blessings and grace mute in my life. My dad's death, strangely, has prompted me from this sleep and forced me to run to God for help.

My earthly father was not perfect, but he was a godly man. He pointed me to Jesus and mirrored the Father more than anyone else in my life. And he loved me so much. At his funeral, the preacher called me his "shining star." The void he has left in my life is sometimes overwhelming.

I hate nights now. I dream about my dad almost every night no matter what I try to think of before sleep. Some nights he is sick in my dreams. Some nights he is gone (even in sleep reality wins out). Many nights he is still alive and healthy in my dreams. Those are the hardest.

Last night I dreamed he was alive, healthy, and I was able to go home and see him. Just thinking of it makes tears stream down my face. Dreams like these make the wound open up fresh all over. I can't picture his face in my's just too hard right now.

A couple weeks ago, one of my best friends gave me a devotional book called "Streams in the Dessert." It's been a life-giver. Today's entry is what I intended to share here.

This is a poem called "Don't be Afraid" b Charles H. Spurgeon based on Matt 14:27:

Tonight, my soul, be still and sleep;
The storms are raging on God's deep--
God's deep not yours; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul be still and sleep;
God's hands will still the Tempter's sweep--
God's hands, not yours; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul be still aad sleep;
God's love is strong while night hours creep--
God's love, not yours; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul be still and sleep;
God's heaven will comfort those who weep--
God's heaven, not yours; be still and sleep.

For those of you who made it through to the end, thanks. If you think of it, you can pray I can take courage and hope again. Pray I will be still and sleep.

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