Part 0412/13/2008 11:57:36 AM Journal Entry Something else hit me hard yesterday. When I drove past the SPCA, I thought of Mickey and suddenly, I was filled with grief again—unexpectedly intense. One of the things that most bothers me about her is thinking of her alone, lost and bewildered and maybe believing I didn’t care. And then it hit. How do I think God feels about us when we feel lost and that he doesn’t care, and even stop praying? God, as Creator and Lover, must feel tremendous pain. If my pain about the dog is that intense, God’s sorrow would be overwhelming. I can’t even begin to imagine it. It’s maybe the first time I really thought about how my distancing myself from God affects God. When I cry, storm at God, etc.—at least I’m in communication. When I close off and feel alone, even though I know it’s part of the depression of growing, I cause God pain. He aches for me and my pain. I don’t think we can fathom, even at the smallest level, how much we are loved. God aches for those who don’t know him and who don’t believe in his loving and merciful presence. God aches for the lost. Reminds me of the parable of the lost sheep. Journal Entry As I was reading my devotions—the Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger…, I realized I have never felt God’s anger, and I cried. I’ve known his merciful presence, and sometimes that mercy brought pain…but never in anger has God hurt me or punished me. As someone who grew up with anger—from others and at myself—I guess God knew anger from him wouldn’t work. It is his grace, his love, that disarms me; it is his compassion that has drawn me closer and made me trust my heart and soul with him. Love is so much stronger than anger. It’s gentle ties are as enduring as God himself, because God is the source of that love. I must not be ashamed to low my feelings and passion for God to exist for all to see. When I try to be strictly academic—rational—so much of the gift of myself can be lost. It is presence, not rational thought, that is most needed. Presence can take rational thought and clothe it with love and mercy. God wants the heart of me in what I do. There is no defense against love. Journal Entry I am mourning something. I see Dad’s kitchen, all the pictures and newspaper clippings, and this is the story of this man’s life. I see pictures of Tim and I when we were first married, and now, what feels like only a few short years later—older, definitely older. And I cry. Somehow, I think I did not see myself in the aging process—my life as a series of pictures with the kids growing up and Tim and I aging. Maybe I never truly imagined us as older. I kept this image of youth—playfulness, opportunities, endless tomorrows. I don’t know. As I cry, I ask the question, what is me? Isn’t that the life long struggle? To discern what is me and what is other? I know at each part of the journey, we discover ourselves again. It just feels like there’s less and less to hang onto. I definitely am working through something. What am I in the process of giving up? I’ve thought about how hard it is not to see myself as part of the system ‘Tim and I and house and Chance.’ Maybe my recognition of this is a sign of my separating from it. And the fact I’m questioning who I am (what’s me, what isn’t) means I’m feeling off balance. I suspect that the rest of life will be this letting go. Maybe that’s what I mourn. That everything that gave me ‘me’ is being torn out of my hands—that’s what it feels like at first. But I know in actuality I must choose to surrender it. Journal Entry Reading in my devotions Hosea 11:1-9, where God says his compassion is aroused and that he will not come in wrath. If it wouldn’t be for God’s compassion, I would never have been able to make this journey, nor continue it now. The pain of having my idols stripped from me, the pain of being taught discernment, would not have been possible without God’s incredible compassion. I could not have done it unless I knew God was there guiding the journey with his mercy and love. In the same way, compassion rather than exasperation will help me connect to others. I must withhold judgment, anger, impatience, etc. This God has shown me over and over again. This is the reason for the journey. If you are in the system, if you must keep it all together, if you must live up to some standard—and how hard we are on ourselves when we don’t—I think those are the points where I now recognize my feeling as one of shame: when we must do all of this, it becomes exhausting and robs the joy of life from us.
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