Waiting on God in the winters of our lives

I woke up this morning thinking, "If I don't see some sunshine and color soon, I'm gonna lose it."

I know many of you in the far north are thinking, "Seriously? You live in the SOUTH! What are you complaining about? Try three feet of snow and face-freezing temperatures and thick gray skies... day after day after day!"

Been there, done that. My condolences to you.

My problem is, I don't do winter well. Anywhere.

I know there's a reason for winter. A God ordained purpose.

But a lot of it has to do with waiting. And that's another thing I don't do well...wait.

Yes, I've learned patience throughout the years...God has been very good at answering that prayer.

Now maybe I need to pray for the grace to wait. To wait for that which I know will surely come.
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But I have a feeling I am waiting for something far more glorious than a passing spring.

That the winter of my discontent-- with myself, our country, our world, serves a far greater purpose.

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Mirrors.

I have a love/hate relationship with them.

I know I'm supposed to love looking into them.

Gazing at myself in doe-eyed amazement at how drop-dead gorgeous I am.

At least that's what Wall Street says.

I just need a little of their help to make myself that way.

Right.

What I see when I even look in a mirror are things that show me "the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be."

That the new 56 will never be the old 29.

No matter what tune Wall Street sings...a siren song that says it's all about what we look like.

Funny, that's not what God says.

He's more concerned with Who we look like...

For all those who have ever asked, "Why?"

Have you ever asked "Why?"

Better yet, cried out, screamed out, whispered, "Why?"

With tears streaming down your cheeks.

And a heart so heavy that it feels it could fall right out of your chest.

I'm thinking if you are living and breathing you have.

Many times.

It's a cry that has echoed down through the ages.

A question that often times seems unanswered.

Or maybe not.

New Year's resolution...no more "F" word!

I bet I know what you're thinking..."YOU say the "F" word?"

Yup. More than I should.

Usually it's only in my head...a silent mantra that no one else hears.

Debilitating. Discouraging. Defeating.

The "F" word...as in "Failure."

It usually appears with its strong-armed cohorts: Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda.

Sounds like a dance beat.

But it's not.

It's a death cry to who I am.

Beloved. Child of the King. Worthy of dying for.

All it takes is one mistake. One thing done wrong. And the record kicks in...

"You're a failure. You always have been and you always will be."

This tirade would continue until I was a soggy-eyed, weak-kneed mess.

Worth nothing.

Just what the enemy wanted...

Putty in his hands.

But then he met his Waterloo...