Out Of Control, But Right On Schedule

The longer I breath, the more I am understanding that I have no control over the days that I am allowed to live. I can make every decision that comes my way, and I can choose right or left... But control is not in my hands. I can only live the days that the Lord chooses to let me live, and I must be honest, sometimes, that is hard to swallow. Not because I believe that I could do a better job than Him... It's hard because the world my eyes are watching me live in.

It is hard because I am watching Multiple Sclerosis eat away at my mothers body. My mother taught me everything I know about being strong, and now she has trouble finding the strength in her legs to get out of bed in the morning. The women that taught me the value of a hard days work now has a hard time getting through a work day without her wheelchair reminding her that she can't do the things that she once took for granted (like being able to reach a book on a shelf). She can't hold her grandkids without some form of help. The stress of life keeps her from remembering everything that the day has held. It's hard for me to deal with the lack of control I have over this life because I hate the pain that my mother lives in. I hate hearing her voice crack as she holds back the pain. I hate the fact that my mother is in her early fifties, but she is forced to live as if she is seventy. I don't know how much tread my mom has left on her tires... And I hate the fact that there is nothing I can do to make her better.

My lack of control in this life brings me to the feet of the one that created the air I draw into my lungs. I fall to my knees because I have no lofty place of power to sit. As much as I struggle with the futility of my actions to control my surroundings... I have to place my bet on the author of this story. I have no doubt that He knows what he is doing because the sun came up again today. He loves with a force that you feel on a cool breeze or when the small stuff works out right. I have no clue why my mother is suffering while thieves have the strength to steal. But, I know why Jesus died on a tree. I know that if my Savior felt pain, then I will too. I also know that if death had no power over him, then death has no control over me.

The longer I sit under this city sky, the more I understand why the Lord made Crockett, Texas. The more time I take to stop and listen for the Lord... The more I understand that his knowledge has depths I will never reach in this body. The more I watch my potted plants grow, the more I understand that the Earth existed long before I cried my first tears. I trust that the Lord has a plan that is good for me. And, I trust that nothing that happens can take him by surprise. The Bible tells me that He knew me long before I was in my mothers womb... I am starting to understand how personal and intimate that is. I wish my mother did not understand the pain that she lives with, but I am thankful that she has a personal relationship with the only person that has the power to do anything about that pain.

Half Drunk, but Hurt Straight To the Bone

Forgive me all those who look to me for advice and strength for living your life… I am a flawed man. This isn’t going to come out right… and this won’t sound “Christian”…

I am sitting on my patio tonight trying to drink away this hurt that I thought was in the past. Ben Harper is pleading over the stereo not to be hurt again. My heart seems to be screaming the same thing right now. It’s amazing how a hard day at work can unearth hurt that you buried so many times before. The grave always seems shallow when you are exhausted. I drove away from work today knowing I would feel this way. I knew I would be the only one in this apartment when I got here. I knew I would battle with these thoughts and emotions… and I knew I would fall at the feet of this pain again. I have never been good at being alone, but I am trying so hard. I try to keep the smile on my face, but it seems as fake as the words of wisdom I try to pass on to those who seek it from me.

Sorry my thought are so random (the empty bottles are starting to pile up)…
I remember being dressed in a black tux with a white tie. I was scared I was going to screw up the ceremony. I knew for sure I was going to say the wrong words or set her dress on fire with a unity candle. I did neither. I said the right things, and I even made it through our first dance without falling all over her. That day runs through my head a lot, so does the day that she left me for the “what might be” of Arizona. Just the name of that state sometime hurts my heart. Memories haunt me, and words still cut me to the point of tears.

There is no sunshine in this post, just the truth: Sometimes it still hurts to be alone. When I am just tired enough, I get sad that I don’t have someone to hold. When a certain song comes on the radio, Sometimes I am taken back to a place from years ago. I am not saying that I long for the days of the past… But she always had a smile to get lost in…

Tomorrow I will wake up, go to work, and try to do better than I did today. This isn’t a permanent emotion of mine, just tonight as I sit here under a breezy night.

I love how I still write these posts as if anyone reads a word I have to say.