It's funny when life seems to get harder and harder that I think... oh it is just cause God is doing something, He has everything under control. So does that mean that when everything is good He is taking a nap? I don't think so.
So Costa Rica is going well. Language study gets harder and harder as we press on but we make it. Christmas is coming soon and for some reason that is all I can think about lately. Oh well...
3 comments:
I really really love you.
"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin.
But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."
I have this folder of quotes. This one is by Souza.
I know that it seems "life" has been on hold since Candidate seminar. I know that "normal life" seems to have ended or at least put on hold. I pray for you each day. That you will know in the deepest part of your heart that God IS in control and that TODAY is always the BEST day of your life.
Not sure who wrote the following stuff but it was in the folder too. Just think about this is the same Jesus we love and desire to be like and serve!
Mary’s Prayer
GOD. O infant-God. Heaven’s fairest child. Conceived by the union of divine grace with our disgrace. Sleep well.
Sleep well. Bask in the coolness of this night bright with diamonds. Sleep well, for the heat of anger simmers nearby. Enjoy the silence of the crib, for the noise of confusion rumbles in your future. Savor the sweet safety of my arms, for a day is soon coming when I cannot protect you.
Rest well, tiny hands. For though you belong to a king, you will touch no satin, own no gold. You will grasp no pen, guide no brush. No, your tiny hands are reserved for works more precious:
to touch a leper’s open wound,
to wipe a widow’s weary tear,
to claw the ground of Gethsemane.
Your hands, so tiny, so white—clutched tonight in an infant’s fist. They aren’t destined to hold a scepter nor wave from a palace balcony. They are reserved instead for a Roman spike that will staple them to a Roman cross.
Sleep deeply, tiny eyes. Sleep while you can. For soon the blurriness will clear and you will see the mess we have made of your world.
You will see our nakedness, for we cannot hide.
You will see our selfishness, for we cannot give.
You will see our pain, for we cannot heal.
O eyes that will see hell’s darkest pit and witness her ugly prince . . . sleep, please sleep; sleep while you can.
Lie still, tiny mouth. Lie still, mouth from which eternity will speak.
Tiny tongue that will soon summon the dead, that will define grace, that will silence our foolishness.
Rosebud lips—upon which ride a starborn kiss of forgiveness to those who believe you, and of death to those who deny you—lie still.
And tiny feet cupped in the palm of my hand, rest. For many difficult steps lie ahead for you.
Do you taste the dust of the trails you will travel?
Do you feel the cold seawater upon which you will walk?
Do you wrench at the invasion of the nail you will bear?
Do you fear the steep descent down the spiral staircase into Satan’s domain?
Rest, tiny feet. Rest today so that tomorrow you might walk with power. Rest. For millions will follow in your steps.
And little heart . . . holy heart . . . pumping the blood of life through the universe: How many times will we break you?
You’ll be torn by the thorns of our accusations.
You’ll be ravaged by the cancer of our sin.
You’ll be crushed under the weight of your own sorrow.
And you’ll be pierced by the spear of our rejection.
Yet in that piercing, in that ultimate ripping of muscle and membrane, in that final rush of blood and water, you will find rest. Your hands will be freed, your eyes will see justice, your lips will smile, and your feet will carry you home.
And there you’ll rest again this time in the embrace of your Father.
Chapter Four
WHAT WAS IT like watching him pray?
How did he respond when he saw other kids giggling during the service at the synagogue?
When he saw a rainbow, did he ever mention a flood?
Did you ever feel awkward teaching him how he created the world?
When he saw a lamb being led to the slaughter, did he act differently?
Did you ever see him with a distant look on his face as if he were listening to someone you couldn’t hear?
How did he act at funerals?
Did the thought ever occur to you that the God to whom you were praying was asleep under your own roof?
Did you ever try to count the stars with him . . . and succeed?
Did he ever come home with a black eye?
How did he act when he got his first haircut?
Did he have any friends by the name of Judas?
Did he do well in school?
Did you ever scold him?
Did he ever have to ask a question about Scripture?
What do you think he thought when he saw a prostitute offering to the highest bidder the body he made?
Did he ever get angry when someone was dishonest with him?
Did you ever catch him pensively looking at the flesh on his own arm while holding a clod of dirt?
Did he ever wake up afraid?
Who was his best friend?
When someone referred to Satan, how did he act?
Did you ever accidentally call him Father?
What did he and his cousin John talk about as kids?
Did his other brothers and sisters understand what was happening?
Did you ever think, That's God eating my soup?
Oops the last part called chapter four were questions for Mary.
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