What Will This Day Bring?

Will it bring good news or bad?

Will it be fruitful or wasted?

Will it strengthen my faith or my doubts?

Will it bring peace or unrest?

Will it give me opportunities to be compassionate or angry and demanding?

Will it encourage me to forgive or judge and condemn?

Will it open my heart to God’s goodness or will it make me turn away in despair?

This day will provide choices. My responses will decide the rest.  

What If I Don't Want To?

Photo by Clare Bloomfield at FreeDigitalPhotos.net              

I am doing what God has told me to do, but I don't want to, and I am grumbling. The editing process is atrocious and tedious, and why does it matter anyway? Out of the millions of books currently in publication, mine will not make any difference.

 God, however, has a different opinion on that subject. This came from an email this week by Pastor Greg Laurie, James 4:17. "Remember, it is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it."

Ouch.

The next morning, the meditation from Living Faith talked about St. Paul’s conversion. After being knocked off his horse and blinded by bright light, St. Paul asked, “What shall I do, sir?” Acts 22:10.

I would not like God to get my attention in the same way.

So, what would you have me do, Lord?

The answer came the following morning in My Living Faith devotional. Saint Angela Merici, the founder of the Sisters of Saint Ursula, said, “We must unceasingly believe, hope, and act.”

I do believe. I do hope, but exactly how does God want me to act? Did he really mean he wanted me to sit hour after hour at the computer searching out repetitive, misspelled words in a manuscript? Why?  

I See A Patch of Sun

Remember the old adage, "Which do you want first? The good news or the bad news?" It appears my family was given the bad news first. 

As I wrote in an earlier post, Troubled Water, my family received devastating news a few weeks ago. As shocking and hurtful as that was it psychologically set us up for deeper rejoicing. Nothing like being literally snatched from the brink of a horrifying abyss to intensify your jubilation.

First, the doctor's believe my dad's cancer is very slow growing. He will most likely die of old age before the cancer ever becomes an issue. Second, although his vision is diminished from macular degeneration, exhaustive tests show it is not likely to progress any further. Even better, his opthamologist did not feel required to revoke my dad's driver's license. His vision remains sharp enough to continue driving in daylight hours. Being restricted from night driving is a small inconvenience compared to not driving at all, or going totally blind. We are rejoicing. 

As for my mother, they are reasonably sure her issues are not related to cancer, but to Ciliac disease. According to the disorder's website the disease is an autoimmune digestive disease that damages the villi of the small intestine and interferes with the absorption of nutrients from food. Essentially, the body is attacking itself every time a person with celiac consumes gluten. The end result, if not treated, the victim literally starves to death. Diet is the only, and most effective, treatment. 

Blood tests confirm the diagnosis, and we should know for certain by next week. I n the meantime, Mother has already started the diet. Thankfully local grocery stores now carry an abundance of gluten free foods. We are tentatively rejoicing over this bit of news.

My job situation is unchanged, but it pales in comparison to the other issues, and there I must trust God. Matthew 17:20 was listed in my readings this morning:

If you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, move, and it will move, and nothing will be impossible to you. 

Streams in the Desert quotes from the book of Habakkuk 3:17-18: Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in  God my savior. 

Added to this is a poem by Eben Eugen Rexford. The last verse: When the storm cloud darkens, it's the TIME to sing. 

And so, I am singing, maybe a little off key, but God doesn't mind. He hears the music as it comes straight from my heart.