And how about the tons of women who don’t even want kids who find tiny little fingers curled around their own. Lots of people have prayed for children and got them.

So, what’s the big deal about granting me that request? Wasn’t He the One responsible for giving me this desire in the first place? If He could just let me have a miscarriage, so at least I’d have children waiting for me in Heaven. 

 

 

Confession. It’s not the first time I’ve ever begged. It’s happened before. I fell right down on my knees, clutched that pink and white checkered bedspread, desperate.

Not desperate in Him. I knew He could do it. He could part the sea, spare people from burning fiery furnaces, raise the dead . . . ridding me of type-one diabetes? That’s a drop in the bucket. There is no known cure, only maintenance, true.

But I didn’t want to maintain this for the rest of my life! Too many struggles. Too many complications. Too many days of feeling just plain crummy.

I’d never heard of anyone being healed of this pancreatic disease. But God has done lots of firsts. Imagine the glory that would come to His name!    

 

 

Confession. There is more begging . . . Years of fasting over the issue made no difference. Marrying him coincided with God’s plan for my life, or at least that’s the impression He gave me.

“Oh!” I figured it out. God wanted me to be an object lesson on forgiveness and perseverance in prayer and faith. A testimony of unconditional love! God wanted to restore our home. Show the world He can take broken destroyed lives and put them back together.

“Ok, I can do that,” I thought. So, I kept begging. Kept praying. Kept holding out for a better tomorrow. Kept waiting for God to shake him up real good and bring him back home to me. 

 

 

Confession. The day of the accident. A lot of begging that day. Or did I even beg because surely God wouldn’t even think of taking my dad at this time in my life? He knew I needed him now more than ever.

I begged Him, “Please don’t do this. Not now.” Yes, the doctors said it didn’t look good, but that’s no problem for God. So I appealed, “Do your thing, God. Bring him back to life!” I knew He could do it!  

 

 

Confession. More begging . . . but this time I can’t share it. It’s still too tender to the touch. But I’m guessing you know the outcome. 

 

 

I never got those things I begged for . . . I got something else instead. 

 

I got an elevator ride into the pit of my soul and found some pretty yucky stuff down there. My gracious Father waited for the go-ahead from me to scrape it out and clean it up. 

 

With each new begging episode, the clearer things became. Weights I didn’t even know I had, exposed and dealt with; or at least on the radar now!

Words about sufficient grace morphed from one-dimensional platitudes on a page into lifelong, daily friends.

 

The loss that cries me to sleep at night has become my magic carpet transporting me to more eternal perspectives. And I remember, this world is not my home, and something greater than tomorrow awaits me. One day He’ll wipe away every tear and make all things new! Heaven has become more than just a figment of the imagination. It’s where I long to live and where I want my treasures stored.  

 

And like a camera, the world, others and myself zoom into more crystal crisp focus. Fret and worry don’t have as much influence over me. That horrid list of “dos” and “don’ts” no longer guilts me to death . . . as often. Who knew one could live so free and light! 

 

And working for Him? Been replaced! Now I’m walking and working with Him. 

I found a God who is also a Husband and a Provider and a Lover of my soul. 

 

I resolved, just recently I might add, that some heartaches will never be explained on this mortal coil . . . and that’s ok because God always knows and will not withhold any good thing from those who walk uprightly. 

 

I met a Friend that never leaves even when the lights go out, and the house is still and empty.

  

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