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Hope in the Cracks

I have had a series of topics I have thought about blogging. I haven't had the energy to sit down and write them. It really has been all I can do to sit and relay stories. That has actually been helpful to me, even if I am the only one who reads them. Writing stories about my life is cathartic. Cathartic catharsis. I wonder why writing is such a pressure release valve? You would think it would have something to do with connecting to the reader and yet blogging is for the most part an impersonal action for me. I have a few people who read what I write, but most folks stumble across my page in search of something else. According to my statistics it takes them less than a minute to discover I am not what they were looking for. I envy their discernment.

I often thought I wanted to be a writer. I have had people tell me I should sit down and write a book. I don't know what I would write about if I did. There are so many things to read on the net, so many books available here that are classics. Why would anyone want to read what I write? Why would anyone want to read what 99.9% of what bloggers have to say? The remaining .1% worth reading would keep an avid reader busy for decades. I should be thrilled that out of all the reading material available there are two or three people on the planet who keep up with my drivel. If I am to be honest though, I would like to be recognized as the next Hemingway, Michener, or budding Harper Lee. Not that I compare myself in any way with those authors, but you know what I mean. It's about recognition. Achievement.

My little sister and I were raised in separate households. She was placed for adoption when she was born and we were reunited about 17 years ago. I shared with her about watching a video of a friend of mine dancing with his daughter at her wedding. It was amazingly touching for a woman like me who had an adversarial relationship with her father. My sister is currently caring for her dad. He lives in a home that specializes in aiding folks with Alzheimer's. We both teared up when I told her about the video. Whatever we missed growing up together, we share a common bond of being softies together now. It's always a matter of minutes before we hit a topic that causes our eyes to get glassy and for the saline waterfalls to begin. She and I have discussed writing a book together about the ways we had the same experiences in different households. Maybe one day we will actually do it if for no other reason than to marvel at it ourselves. Our story is unique, but then, isn't everyone's?

Right now I am trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my years. How do you prioritize what you're going to do when you haven't a clue how long the journey will be and what resources you'll have to work with? I'll either hold fast to the hope that in God's plans for me there are no mistakes. There is no lack available resources. There is meaning to living alone in a home in rural Kentucky. And finally, there is a contribution I can make to the Kingdom. Life for me is about learning to fit in hope. To let it fill in the voids and cracks when I am worried about why the check engine light is on in my car; how, with a bad back , neck and limited funds, I will get the house cleaned and painted; how will I keep the garden from go feral on me- I swear I heard "Feed me, Seymour!" the last time I ventured out there- and lastly, if it is normal for my air conditioning fan to shudder and shake my domicile like we're experiencing a 3.5 magnitude earthquake when it turns off. We wont even mention finding hope for my kids and grandson, whom I haven't seen in way too long.

Hope used to be my mortal enemy. Hope deferred makes the heart sick according to Proverbs. I have no discipline or patience. I am all about instant gratification. I am all about the second half of that verse and desire being fulfilled being a tree of life. I convince myself that there is nothing wrong with what I desire and that God is just being mean to me for not giving me what I want. Psalm 34:7 defines desire as "delighting in the Lord." When we delight in the Lord he gives us the desires of heart. When He is our delight, he gives himself to us. I understand it, but I am sinful and don't 'get' it. I don't get up on the morning and think, "Oh boy! I am going to spend some time with Jesus!" I wish I did. I wish that I wanted Him that much. I envy the "head-over-heels-in-love-with-Christ" Christians. Well, sometimes I envy them. Mostly I want to get away from them because they make me think that I am crazy and not a believer at all.

Perseverance and hope must live together in the same soul. No matter how it feels emotionally, I must ask myself what is true about Jesus. What is true about the God I so easily want to ditch. I usually start by asking myself why the mad desire to ditch what my sinful heart tries to convince me doesn't exist in the first place? Except that He does exist, there would be no reason to be repelled by submitting to Him. As for hope I am trying to see it as the mortar of God that will hold me together. It's not always easy but it beats the alternative.

Romans 8:24-25


24 For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? 25But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.


Comments

Victoria said…
Thanks Rozie-I just love you-I hope we can meet someday here-but we will surely meet there-if not here!
Jackie Pickett said…
Sometimes being a Christian can be very lonely. However, I am always encouraged when I read your posts. Thank you. (Philemon 7)
rosemarie said…
Thanks, Victoria. It will be fun, won't it? And Jackie, your comments are a huge bit of encouragement to me. You would think that the Christian life would be the least lonely life, sometimes it's amazingly hard to feel connected, isn't it?

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