My current Bible Study these days is Becoming a Woman of Purpose, by Cynthia Heald. It’s a journey of faith-filled scriptures about loving God and others, waiting on Him with hope, trusting Him when I’m suffering and serving Him with a reverent fear and ultimately, fulfilling His purposes. You would think my favorite chapter would have been the one on embracing suffering and glorifying God in my pain. We Melancholies thrive on emotional adversity because we know first hand it leads to our profit and God’s glory unlike the Sanguine who knows how to lead us to joy and laughter, or the Choleric who teaches us how to work hard or the Phlegmatic who never gets riled and remains peaceful. But no, my favorite chapter so far has been the one on waiting on God. The author cites Psalms to review that remind me of my own turbulent emotions when I can’t control a situation and how God steadies me. She teaches about the promises in God’s word in Genesis that foretell that one day Abraham and Sarah will, indeed, bare a child which they eventually did, but they messed up their lives and the lives of others with their unbelief before they got their promised infant. So what has changed from the days of Abe & Sarah? Nothing. We’re still impatient. This chapter hits home for us in our family right now. We eagerly await our first grandchild who is fashionably late in getting here. This birth is so suspenseful! My techie daughter and son-in-love have put aside all the gender revealing gadgets and I don’t even know the sex of this little one! That’s okay. I found a word from God to base all my hopes on…..Lamentations 3:22, 23. Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed. Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Today is a brand new day…maybe the baby will be born today.
Memorial Day is always noteworthy for me and my girls. Next Thursday marks the third year of missing their father, my husband. So many thoughts run through my mind. The journey of loss takes on various emotions. The strongest feeling, at first, was emptiness. In a split second, I would forget he departed forever. I imagined things I needed to talk to him about when he got back home. My mind is realistic now. He's not coming back. There will be no more times of sitting on the porch swing together on the front deck staring at the moon and the stars. He would tell me all he knew about the majestic night sky. I have so much I wish I could tell him, like the excitement of seeing our oldest grandchild make a decision to follow Jesus and get baptized on Mother's Day! And our little Amy, 11 years old, I wish he could have seen her on stage receiving her induction to the National Honor Society. Our daughters have their own ...
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