Growth

America,

Today I don't feel Jesus in me. I feel angry, exhausted, frustrated, irritated, ready-to-punch-someone-in-the-face-that-pushes-the-wrong-buttons, grateful, and with a full understanding that my life really is not "bad". The reality here is this: there are no quick fixes in growth. Let me repeat that for emphasis: there are no quick fixes in growth.

My Maker is a Master Craftsman. He has this tool called a chisel, and he uses it to hammer away all of the granite and quartz surrounding me. The thing is, breaking away such hard stone, hurts. Transformation, hurts. We don't move forward to what "is" from what "was" with no battle scars and no challenges. St Paul says: "It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God." (Acts 22b) I can certainly say that in my own life, St Paul has not been made out to be a liar.

God answers prayer. It's miraculous and utterly impossible to explain, but He does. There isn't a trick to it, or a way to manipulate Him in to giving us what we want. But He answers prayer. In my own life, it is often in ways that hurt.

Last night, I was reminded about how quickly life goes away. It's been so many years since the daily fight-for-life battles with the triplets that kept my brain living in the moment. My child became very sick, very suddenly, and my brain replayed the sudden decline of my Mom, as she battled a similar infection. In my daughter's case, it turned out to be different from my Mom, but the imagery was intense. I was afraid.

As suddenly as the illness came on, her disposition changed (within minutes of prayer). So did mine. The thing with my children is this: they know I know a lot about medical stuff, and if I get scared, then they panic. I asked God to help my child, and to also give me courage, to make me brave, so that I could get her the help she needed, and keep her from being afraid. I was sobbing, and then calm. She was fevered and lethargic, then a chatterbox. We found growth in the few clarified moments that illness can bring.

America, I don't feel Jesus. Right now I feel the pain of the Master Craftsman chiseling away the stone. I feel exhausted, but grateful.