God's Word for Today

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Ten days

No warm fuzzes tonight. I have my house to myself finally. Everyone is asleep and I have a moment to myself.

My accountability sisters and I have spoken about this many times. When you experience an extended period of emotional turmoil it becomes very similar to having a chronic illness. As I again digest this latest episode of turmoil and pain with my rebellious son I have to wonder what will come next.

I m not looking forward to the next ten days (get a job or get another place to live, after five plus weeks of sleeping until 11:30 and little progress in the employment front we have as per usual had to hold his feet to the fire and actually hold him accountable for his actions) It would not matter if was the next thirty days for the result would not be any different.

My conflict comes in wanting the tension, animosity, deceit and disrespect out of my home and wanting peace. My heartbreak at the grieving I am experiencing at the prospect of the life and the potential he is spitting on is at times more than I can bear.

I pray and my sisters in Christ pray.

I call my sisters and they listen to me weep over my heartbreak and still the situation remains the same.

You see I know that when I am weak He is strong
I know that weeping may last for a night but joy will come in the morning
I know that when he comes to his senses he will return to us.
I know this and I believe it with all my heart.

But for right now at this moment I feel as Job must have felt sitting in the dust with his festering skin and expressing his painful situation

JOB 7:3 so I have been allotted months of futility,
and nights of misery have been assigned to me.

JOB 7:4 When I lie down I think, `How long before I get up?'
The night drags on, and I toss till dawn.

I love the psalms for they so capture all the good and all the sorrow of life in perfect detail.

PS 31:9 Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and my body with grief.

and then my promise that I cling to when I can not cling to anything else

PS 119:28 My soul is weary with sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word.

I pray that tomorrow will be a better day.
Today it hurts to me a mother.


Sarah said...

I am praying for you, sis.

violin3679 said...

Me too, hon. Love you.

Nancy said...

The Prodigal son returned home. So will yours. You're in my prayers.

skoots1mom said...

John 16:33 "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

wldawgs89 said...

Hang in there, girl !!

Isaiah 40:29b-31
"The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

Lisa B.

Missy @ It's Almost Naptime said...

I don't know anything about your situation, but I have a brother that sounds much like your son.

My parents were tough with him - but not enough. My mom would always cut him off - almost. She would be very firm - to a point.

The end result is, he is 40 years old, and he lives in a townhouse she owns (ie, virtually rent-free) and she pays his water bill, reconnects his electricity when he gets it cut off, buys him cars when he wrecks his (I think we are on number #6? 7?), pays his insurance, even pays his cell phone bill. Yes, his CELL PHONE.

The result: my 73 year old mother has a 40 year old toddler. Who could survive on his own, but really, why would he?

It looks good on the outset. But the other result is, my brother is an alcoholic because he feels like a failure. Because he is a failure. Because my mom ostensibly never let him fail.

Be tough, mom. Hang in there. It will be worth it in 20 years.

In Christ,

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