Arnica Anonymous

(I finally gave my Adventure Buddy a link to this blog. It’s such a separated part of my life I honestly didn’t think of it before. I felt very nervous knowing he could access it. But in just the first night he read half of it. And he says I should keep writing. Lucky you! 😉 ) I’ve been struggling lately with complete disinterest in anything spiritual. Or perhaps, not struggling since I haven’t really tried to improve my situation. More like apathy. When I told my AB this he asked “Why?” Truthfully, I don’t know. I could blame it on others. My church, my coworkers, quarantine. But I really don’t think I have a good excuse. I’ve just become lazy. Recently my Facebook feed has seemed to be full of divorcing couples. I hate this. How can someone the Bible says you become one with suddenly become something you want out of your life? It doesn’t make sense. Or it shouldn’t. These situations always make me wonder, what went wrong? Who messed up, and how? I know everyone make...

This year has been extremely dark for me. Some of my worst fears have come to life and more often than not I have desired the coward's way out--death. When I am drowning in guilt and mistakes and struggled with the conviction that God is punishing me I have found comfort in Psalm 130. These words acknowledge both of those feelings but counters them with: if God was really going to punish us, no one would be left alive. Instead, we have forgiveness and hope in Him. Psalm 130 A song of ascents. 1  Out of the depths  I cry to you,   Lord ; 2       Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive      to my cry for mercy. 3  If you,  Lord , kept a record of sins,      Lord, who could stand? 4  But with you there is forgiveness,      so that we can, with reverence, serve you. 5  I wait for the  Lord ,  my whole being waits,    ...

Tonight at supper we had been going cheerfully along when Grandma suddenly announced, "You know how I've been telling people how lovely a family you all are to take care of me? Well, I don't feel like that anymore." She continued, "I get stuck away in a corner at supper and no one talks to me. No one helps me do anything. I ought to just stomp off to my room and slam the door." It made me mad. Mom and I have both been very sick this week and despite that, we have cooked good dinners, given her a shower, and helped her to the bathroom, which was the new demand today. (Mostly Mom) I know she is not logical anymore. I know she is not herself. Some other gremlin has taken over her mind and my sweet, loving, servant-hearted Grandma is not the one talking. But it still makes me mad. My biggest fear when we first arranged to move her in with us was that I would come to resent her. I think that time may have come. Which also makes me mad at myself. ...

In a relationship, I always thought I would be the one to make it work. The one who fulfilled my duties, forgave unconditionally, and swallowed anything else that might go wrong. It never occurred to me that I might mess up. I might be the one who made a mistake that had to be forgiven. And that  I would have to accept this forgiveness.  All my life I have worked and paid for myself. If I wanted something, I put forth the effort to get the money, saved, and bought it. If I broke something of someone else's, I replaced it. A relationship is not like that. I cannot take back my harmful words or actions. Making up for them is not a possibility, the damage had already been caused. My only option? To say, "I'm so very sorry" and accept my man's forgiveness. I have found this nearly impossible. I keep apologizing. Keep trying to make it up to him because I need a way to alleviate my guilt. I push him away because he inadvertently reminds me of my fault. ...

I really love fireworks, even if the dust/fog they create makes me cough. The anticipation as a yellow comet squeals into the air, then it hangs for a tiny moment, silent and still before blossoming with a loud boom into an explosion outward of one color, often followed by a downward shower of another. Once the streaks of light have dissipated, the sky is left with charcoal scars and I find my mouth hanging slightly open in awe.  And I have the joy of knowing I will see it all over again just as amazing only a little different when the next firework is set off. Over and over again. Boom. Boom. Boom.

I was told the other day but a very old family friend that I was a "robot" when it came to emotions. He was not intending it as a complement but rather as an encouragement that it was healthy to have and show emotion. I was both stunned and a little hurt. Often times I feel rusted stiff inside. I feel one way, but I know I should be feeling another way, or maybe not upset at all. So I wind up an immovable mess, unable to process any emotions correctly. Reading the Psalms, we see the very emotional journals of David, a passionate man-- after God's own heart. He never discounts his emotions, whatever they are. Nor does he tell God what to do about his emotions. Over and over we can find a surprising pattern: A.) These are my circumstances and how I feel about them. B.) God is awesome. C.) Praise the Lord for being awesome and always taking care of me. He doesn't say whether his feelings are right or wrong. He expresses them and then turns to the Lord an...

Since starting my job I have struggled against my biggest fear--being so tired with life that my brain stops working on a creative level and merely goes into autopilot. I have always worried I would join the rest of the adult world in their grey plodding through the years. Well, truth be told, I have done exactly that.

Let's just agree that I won't apologize for not posting regularly and you won't be offended by my lack of interaction on all your lovely blogs. Deal?? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I had the chance to attend a conference with my sister's church several weeks ago. During one session the teacher connected two Bible verses in a way that I had never before considered. Ephesians 3:17 says -- "That Christ may make His home in your hearts through faith." When we move into a new house what do we do to make it "our home"? We take out old furniture and put in new. We tear down walls. We strip out old cabinets. Basically, we make the place look entirely different and we make it fit us. Can you imagine how awkward it would be to try and do that with the previous owners still there? They would be offended and fight every change we made. When we ask Christ to make His home in our hearts we cannot retain ownership. There are no roped off areas marked "No...

A few weeks ago I told one of my friends, "You know, I am nothing like I would have expected to be ten years ago. Or even five years ago."  After all, I grew up as a tom-boy believing all emotions were useless things that got in the way of logic and sense and that functionality always trumped beauty.

I have always enjoyed the book of Philippians though until today I had not known why. This morning as  I began my (sometimes) daily Bible study I decided to do a little research on the setting of Philippians. It's a sweet story.