Crying in the Shower

It was all crashing in on me. 

Yes, I said I would do this.  Yes, I said I would do that. 

They didn't seem overwhelming at the time.  Each.  Separately.  

But This + That +  Weariness = A Good Cry in the Shower.

That's what happened Sunday morning.  And I really needed it.

I plugged in the night light, turned off the glaring overhead lights, and ran the warm-almost-too-hot shower.   The steam-filled semi-lit room, the stinging heat of the water on my skin, and the release of pent up tears calmed my nerves.  The concoction was a healing balm for my raw emotional state.

As I leaned forward against the shower wall, face in hands, water streaming down my head and my back, I started praying, "I don't know if I can do this.  God, did you really call me to this position as a pastor's wife?  You know I get so overwhelmed so easily.  Why did you do this to me?" 

I cried....

I cried silently until the lump formed in my throat that urged me to sob.  Loudly.  But I didn't. 

I thought about all the patriarchs and matriarchs in the bible who stepped out of their comfort zone.  They not only stepped, they LEAPED!  I thought about the prophets who were asked to do so much by God.  And they did it. 

I thought about Troy in the next room, studying for the Sunday School lesson he was going to be teaching for two hours straight.  I thought of all the pressure he had been under lately with his present job and the preparation for this new position.  I thought about the fact that he was doing all this while also taking a seminary class.  I thought about his supernatural ability to find patience and understanding for me during this crazy transitional time.

I thought about the bible verse, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." 

And then God spoke to my heart, "All done?" 

And I said, "Yep."

Several minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in terry cloth softness and prayed, "Let's do this thing."

A Block of Wood

Isaiah 44: 14-19
He cuts down cedars, or perhaps took a cypress or oak.  He let it grow among the trees of the forest, or planted a pine, and made it grow.  It is man's fuel for burning; some of it he takes and warms himself and says, "Ah!  I am warm;  I see the fire."  From the rest he makes a god, his idol;  he bows down to it and worships.  He prays to it and says, "Save me; you are my god."  They know nothing, they understand nothing;  their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see, and their minds closed so they cannot understand.  No one stops to think, no one has the knowledge or understanding to say, "Half or it I used for fuel; I even baked bread over its coals, I roasted meat and I ate.  Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left?  Shall I bow down to a block of wood?"

Earlier this morning, I opened the fridge and was face to face with a "block" of cookie dough.  And the conversation in my head went something like this...
"Oh cookie dough!  You are exactly what I NEED!  I have a cold and just need to be comforted. I comforted myself most of the day yesterday with food and I feel no better now.  In fact, I feel worse!  Not only physically but emotionally.  But today is a new day and I'm sure you won't let me down today."

And then, God reminded me of this scripture passage that I have giggled about in the past.  How stupid to think that a god made out of the left over block of wood could listen, speak, heal, comfort, or do anything but just be a block of wood!  Hmmm...block of wood, block of cookie dough, block of cheese, cheese dip, any kind of dip with chips.  It's all nothing but a block of wood.  Shall I bow down to a block of wood?

God made the wood for good use.  Just as he made food for good use.  It's the abuse of that material/fuel that turns it into a detestable thing.  I needed this reminder today.