October 10, 2015

Dreams...part 4

Start the story here: Dreams, Part 1

I am fragile. I am frail. I am stronger than I know possible.

Somewhere from the farthest corner of my mind, the words of a mother and a sister break through the darkness that threatens to engulf me..."We don't blame you. This wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself." And like that...one tiny flicker of hope not much bigger than the tip of blown out match... but it's there.

What will I choose to do in this moment? This one seemingly small significant decision that could change the life of one person...one shattered, broken, bruised person with a faith that seems broken beyond repair.

Night time comes and darkness falls both in the outside world and inside my head and my heart. The condemnation and the shame are trying so hard to snuff out that little spark of hope that rose inside earlier. Will I sleep tonight? Should I sleep tonight? After all, there is a family... a mother, a father, siblings and more...who will not sleep tonight.

A young son who may never wake again. How can I even dream of sleeping when I have caused so much pain to so many? Where has my flickering hope gone? Has the darkness snuffed it out for good? God are you here? I can't seem to see you...or feel you...or hear you.

I feel so alone. And yet my husband and son are right here with me. They hug me and their presence is meant to reassure me that I am not alone. And yet, inside...I feel this deep sense of isolation. No one will understand. Everyone will judge.

Sleep...please come and take me away from all this heartache. Jesus, I don't know if you can hear me or not. I don't know where you are right now in my life, but please Jesus-don't abandon that little boy that I hit with my big green pick up truck. Please God, I beg through tears...I honestly thought I had none left, where did these come from? Please God, be with him. Be with them. Don't let him die. I don't think I am strong enough to bear that blame, that agony of knowing I took the life of  a child.

I close my eyes as I lay down on my pillow. The scene plays out again in my mind. All of it. I think the image that haunts me in this moment is seeing his brown hair stuck in the piece surrounding the headlight. I just can't seem to move past that...his little 6 yo old was hit so hard by my big green pick up truck that his hair was embedded into the headlight.

How can he survive such a hard hit? I think of MY little 6 yo son. The vibrant energy that follows him everywhere her goes. The sparkle in his eyes when he looks at me. The sound of his laughter filling our home. I see him dancing in the living room and playing with our dogs. I hear him a beginning reader and thrill at the worlds that is opening up to him as he reads aloud.

And I wonder...what will change in the other home. The home my one small insignificant choice has changed. Will there be vibrant energy or emptiness? The sound of laughter or tears? Will there be dancing or mourning? Playing or crying? New beginnings or an end?

So many questions continue to swirl in my head as ever so slowly the images fade and sleep takes over. I don't remember dreaming that night. I wouldn't call my sleep rejuvenating. But more an unconsciousness that was void of all thought. And that felt good. Until the morning...

When reality came crashing down upon me once more. I woke, thinking surely the events of the day before were just a very bad dream...a nightmare. And then I began to remember that it indeed had happened. It was my reality now. I had hit a young boy while driving. I can never change that, take it back or get a do over. Did he survive the night? Will he survive today? I searched for my tiny flicker of hope, not sure it would be any where I could see. Because as bright as the sun was shining that morning, my heart and my mind felt like the dead of night...so dark and empty of all light.

And then, life went on as normal. My son, my dear sweet son, he needed to eat. He needed me and that tiny blown out match tip of hope surfaced...way off in the distance. I chose to keep my focus on that tiny speck of light knowing, hoping, no that's not it, wishing, yeah that's probably it....I chose to keep my focus on that tiny speck of light wishing it would move closer, because I had no energy to move toward it.

Everything that continued as normal in our home, brought with it wondering thoughts about the family whose life I changed. They weren't waking up and making breakfast in the kitchen after sleeping in their own beds. They were most likely tired and worn out having spent the night in a hospital waiting room. Every normal moment brought dark thoughts of self blame, condemnation and lies. Every normal moment was a fight to keep that tiny speck of light that seemed miles away from going out.

I knew if that light went out, I was a goner. I was fragile. I was frail. I was stronger than I knew. And that strength was about to be tested.

My son reminded me that he had swimming lessons, and that reminder came just a bit too late to ask for help. Any mother knows in their head, that when tragedy strikes you want to try to keep your young child's life as normal as possible. Yet my entire being was screaming at me....I don't want to drive EVER again. I NEVER want to sit behind the wheel of  a car and especially not my big green pick up truck.

And yet there stands my handsome son with his sparkling blue eyes looking expectantly at me, wondering why we hadn't left yet. Lord, I. can. NOT. do. this. I don't think HE (the big guy upstairs) understands just how broken I am inside. And yet I find myself gathering up our pool bag, my purse, the keys...and walking out the door.

I somehow find myself behind the wheel...trying to be brave in front of my son hoping I can protect him from just how big yesterday was. I don't want him to know just how shaken his mommy is...shaken to her very core. Her faith so fractured, she is afraid it might not survive. So with a very deep breath, I start the truck.

And a thought strikes me, WHAT IF he saw my big green truck coming as he was hit? That kind of sub-conscious torment would be awful. I shook. My head laying on the steering wheel, while the truck idled, struggling to remember that tiny detail in all I had seen. To no avail...try as I might I could not remember where he was looking when we collided.

I sat there. Frozen. Fear taking hold again. I reach for the key, I reach for the gearshift...which one will I choose. I am fragile. I am frail. Was I really stronger than I knew?

to be continued...

October 9, 2015

Dreams...Part 3

You might want to catch up, if you are just joining the story.
Dreams... Part 1

I'm home again... life is happening around me & there is a knock at our door... it's the police.

I need to back up, share with you how I got home...

The thoughts that were swirling in my brain were coming so fast and furiously that I barely had time to finish one before the next began. The scene in front of me was empty now... Everything and everyone is gone now... except our family of 3. My husband had arrived on scene and a friend who lived nearby. When did they get here? I'm not exactly sure. I don't even remember calling my friend.

And my big green pick up truck was still sitting in the middle of the empty road.  A car comes flying around the corner.

Please forgive me, from this point forward everything is fuzzy. Details outside of my own head are hard to remember. My thoughts and emotions were overwhelming at times. So much so that I lost all track of time & space for awhile, and yet some events are so vivid still.

Who is this person approaching me from across the yard? I thought everyone had left. I was attempting to process all that had just happened...in a flash, a blink of an eye. One decision...one small insignificant decision and lives are changed, shattered, broken, bruised, perhaps beyond repair.

I am shattered, broken, and bruised...I hope I can be repaired. But who cares about me, my life isn't hanging in the balance...not like his. He is fighting for life somewhere in the air above on his way to a hospital in Philadelphia. I am alive, I can walk, I can talk, I can breath on my own. I don't need anyone or anything to keep me alive.

My problems seems so insignificant, it's all in my head. No big deal. Get a grip. He has it so much worse than you. Or does he?

His battle is a physical battle...a difficult physical battle involving helicopters, hospitals, doctors & nurses. Mine is a spiritual battle...a difficult spiritual battle that is only just beginning involving lies and self doubt, questions without answers, self condemnation and blame.

This young woman approaches me from across the yard and wraps me in a hug...it is the little boy's older sister...the one who brought the kitten and took care of MY son when I forgot he was there. Thank you Jesus, for angels with kittens. WHY IS SHE HUGGING ME??????? Her little brother is in a helicopter flying to a hospital his body looking whole on the outside but broken into pieces on the inside...literally. And I am the one responsible for that. It is my fault. Yet here she is hugging me...I think she is talking to me.

I can't wrap my mind around what she is saying. I can't seem to slow the torrent of thoughts, they are coming so fast. Please God help me focus on what she is saying, I sense her words are terribly important! The thoughts slow, God is so faithful, even when we don't realize it!

"We don't blame you. This was not your fault. Please don't blame yourself." I am speechless.

The moments ahead seem to drag by. The tears continue to flow. I wish I could stop them. I need to be home, yet I can't seem to bring myself to leave the scene. And I definitely don't ever want to drive again. Fear is taking root.

There is no way I will get behind the wheel of a car again. My worst nightmare has become my reality...I have hurt a child, perhaps even taken the life of an innocent child. Everyone who has ever known me knows how much I adore kids!

My heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. And I try to pray.

My words they jumble, they make no sense. While my mind races with questions, I cannot seem to string a sensible thought together to pray. Where do I start? What do I say? I don't know. So I stop trying...for now. How am I going to get home? I look up and there is my big green pick up truck still sitting in the road. We now have 2 vehicles here that need to get home...and I AM NOT driving one-EVER!

My husband to the rescue...don't worry about it. I will figure that out, for now let's just get you home. I called the church before coming over and asked them to pray.

I want nothing more than to crawl up into a ball and forget this has ever happened. My dreams are dying. My faith is faltering. A little boy is lying in a hospital somewhere... is he even at the hospital yet? Either way...a little boy is lying somewhere-a hospital, a helicopter-fighting for his life. How can I just go on. How can I? How? I am the reason this happened. My one small insignificant choice...has changed 2 families...forever.

Then I see my little boy, my sweet 6 yo son who was just playing with a kitten in the midst of this chaos and I realize that HE is my reason to go on...at least in this moment. He needs me. I wrap him in a hug and just hold him on my lap for a few minutes while I attempt once again to control my tears. They seem to be slowing down some as holding MY son soothes my soul... a little.

I stand up. I walk to the truck. I get in the passenger side. And my husband drives me home. Other thoughts are finally starting to make their way through the torrent of self-blame, the lies & the questions. Our youth group, many of whom we know quite well, are flying off on their summer mission trip tomorrow. We were supposed to be there. This was an exciting night for us all. I can barely keep it together as we drive home. There is NO WAY I can get back in the truck later.

Honey, those kids are leaving on a trip that requires all of their attention. By the time they meet for prayer they will know what has happened. I don't want them to worry about me. (So many of these kids I've known for years...I've invested in their lives. We are family.) They need to focus on their "job" while on the trip. You have to go.

He doesn't want to leave me alone and with good reason. I truly am a wreck. I can barely stop crying. My breathing is ragged. I'm pretty sure my eyes are swollen. And our 6 yo son needs dinner, well, we all do...but I have no appetite nor a desire to cook. I just want to curl up in a ball or better yet rewind the clock to earlier. So I could change that one small insignificant decision that has threaten to tear my life apart and take the life of a child.

This is where my memory starts to get really fuzzy on what happened when...phone calls were made-I think my caring husband made most of them for me and had me talk to the most important people-my parents, his parents, you know. Those people we love and adore the most and who love us back. I was in a daze. I think shock had set in. How is it possible to feel completely numb and a deep throbbing pain at the same time?

My husband really didn't want to leave me and yet I somehow was able to convince him he NEEDED to go to the mission trip send off.  A friend comes to keep me company...more like keep an eye on me, I'm sure.

I'm home again... life is happening around me & there is a knock at our door... it's the police.
In that instant my heart stops, my dreams die, and that fracture in my faith widens. I hope no one can see how broken I am inside.

I am certain they are here to tell me it IS completely my fault. You were driving that big green pick up truck when it collided with the little boy on his bicycle and he has died. I will be arrested for oh crap...what do they call it? Involuntary Vehicular Manslaughter. Yup, this is it. The awful thoughts are consuming me. My dreams come crashing down around me...in my head. My family will be broken...again.

My husband & I, we worked so hard to find our way back to each other too. Granted there was still a lot of work ahead of us changing our default settings...but we were moving in the right direction. We had actually started "liking" each other again...we never truly stopped loving one another...not way down deep. We just didn't like each other much at all. (But that is another chapter for another day. I did mention I had more than one hard moment in my 45 years.)

I don't recall who answered the door...myself or my friend.

The movie that in reality is my life now slows down to a crawl and I am sitting at the kitchen table, recounting the details about what happened AGAIN to another officer! If I have to tell this story one more time to one more police officer I think my head might explode. This isn't real. Why do they keep making me talk about it? I am so lost right now.

Life feels like it is swirling out of control around me. My life has become a hurricane of events, emotions and thoughts. I cannot see God in the midst of this storm. It is too big. I feel like a tiny leaf in the middle of the storm of the century...completely at the mercy of the winds. Where will I land? Will I weather this storm still intact OR will I be obliterated by the next gust of wind? And WHERE IS GOD in the midst of this?

I am so lost right now. My faith fracturing with no hope of stopping it,...alone. The storm is so big, the cloud cover so thick...I cannot find a sign of God anywhere. He is completely obliterated by this darkness that is swallowing me up.

I will never be the same again...my life is crumbling before my eyes and there is nothing I can do to stop it...or is there? My friend is praying for me. She must be, because...

Somewhere from the farthest corner of my mind, the words of a mother and a sister break through the darkness that threatens to engulf me..."We don't blame you. This wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself." And like that...one tiny flicker of hope not much bigger than the tip of blown out match... but it's there.

What will I choose to do in this moment? This one seemingly small significant decision that could change the life of one person...one shattered, broken, bruised person with a faith that seems broken beyond repair.

I'm holding my breath as I look across the kitchen table, hearing the clock tick slowly. I look into the police officer's eyes, they are kind. His questions are gentle not accusatory. I answer each one the best that I can, feeling wet cheeks once again. Thank you Mrs. King, we just want to be sure your story is consistent. We will be in touch.

I breath again. Trying so hard to hang on to that blown out match tip that is my hope, clinging to the memory of those words...will it be enough to start to repair the gaping wound that once was my faith?

to be continued...

October 8, 2015

Dreams...Part 2

Dreams....Part 1 you WILL want to start there....I promise.

Dreams...Part 2 (The story continues...)

I don't think I have ever cried as many tears as I did sitting there in that grass watching the awful scene unfolding before my eyes on that warm July evening. One decision... one small insignificant decision about which way to drive home and a life lay in the balance... my faith is fracturing... fear is taking over... and two families may never be the same again. 

My 6 yo son & I, in our big green pick up truck, just hit a 6 yo boy on his bicycle. Here comes the helicopter...this is bad. Really, really bad. I sit in the grass & weep...

I mindlessly pick up my cell phone & dial. Through tears that just won't stop... I don't remember who I try to call...but I need someone, don't I? Eventually my husband and my dear sweet sister friend end up on the scene. I don't really remember when they arrive.

The scene swirling around me is so surreal, surely this isn't real? The ambulances... the fire trucks... the people... the stopped traffic... my big green pick up truck in the middle of the road... a cluster of EMT's on the side of the road... and that blasted helicopter! Why did they need to bring in that helicopter?!!!? In my gut, I know why, my vision blurs as the tears swell, I cannot stop them. 

Suddenly, a new reality breaks through my thoughts, Where is my son in all this mayhem? Where is MY 6 yo son?!!!? All thought of him had exited my mind when I sent him running to the house door to get help. How could I forget my own child? What an awful mother I must be.

Then I remember...a young lady had come from the house & shown my little boy a kitten. She took him a safe distance from all that was unfolding where grass & asphalt met. I look around... dazed... searching... wanting to be sure that MY son was truly safely. 

He is and I smile, a tiny smile. Thank you Jesus for angels with kittens. He was happily sitting with a kitty in his lap, totally unaware of all the activity around him. A relieved sigh escapes my lungs... I am still breathing. I wasn't sure, I feel as though I've been holding my breath for days.

A police officer is in front of me, asking me what happened. And slowly, I try, to no avail, to dry my tears & recount what I remember. We were driving down the road and when we got to that fence row over there... I point... suddenly, he was right there! I... I... I tried to stop! But there was no time.

Do you know how fast you were going? Not exactly, but I know it wasn't fast because children play on this road & I've seen their ball roll into the street before. My voice trails off... Mrs. King, are you ok?

My biggest fear... you know that one you never ever give voice to because you just can't even fathom it would ever happen... that kind of fear... has just come to life before me. I. hurt. an. innocent. child. This is just a really bad dream, right? If I don't say it, it isn't real, right?

I have drifted away into my thoughts...thoughts of "What if...." What if we hadn't gone to the pool today? What if we just had gone home the 'normal' way? And darn it...why oh why was my husband NOT at our property? He is ALWAYS at our property.

Looking back, that was NOT a rational thought, because while we did spend alot of time at our new property, he was NOT always there. Unbeknownst to me in that moment, that lie was going to be one of many I battled in the months to come.

Coming back to reality & that scene that looks like something from a movie & the officer standing in front of me. Mrs King? Yes. The helicopter is revving up and my gaze is drawn to it. Mrs King, can you recount for me again what happened? I sigh.... Draw my gaze back from that blasted helicopter with it's revving engine. And recount what I remember... again.

Why do they keep asking me to tell them what happened? I don't want to voice it... it's not real! The more I talk about it the more real it becomes and I don't want it to be real.

The helicopter is taking off... The young boy inside... I overhear they are headed to our local trauma center. I flashback to a few years earlier, when my nephew also named Reggie was flown off to a hospital after an accident. My first experience with Life Flight. It means life-threatening injuries are involved. It means a life hanging in the balance. It means fast transportation is imperative to survival.

Our nephew, he was a BIG high school football player at the time of his accident & it was bad. This young boy was the same age as my sweet son. He is just a little boy. And he is in that big helicopter... life-threatening injuries... life hanging in the balance... fast transportation imperative to his survival.

So tiny.... so broken... and my green pick up truck is SO BIG! He is so much worse than I could imagine because I was secretly hoping they wouldn't put him in that helicopter. But.... They did... and the were taking off. Everything is blurry... so blurry... its those nonstop tears. They are like flood waters that just won't recede.

The scene is beginning to clear. The crowd is dispersing. The fire trucks have left. The EMT's are packing up. The family is gathering to leave. Something remarkable happens... his mom is walking toward me. I begin to shake. My mind races. Fear threatens to overcome all of my sense. And those tears... I frantically try to wipe them away... yet my cheeks remain wet.

She is in front of me. What will she say to me? I know what my reaction would be... and it doesn't sound or look pretty. She wraps me in her arms & holds me for along moment. Then she steps back, looks directly into my eyes and says words my brain just cannot comprehend.... "We don't blame you. It isn't your fault. It was an accident." My brain swirls with those thoughts as the battle against the self blame, the lies and the questions.

I think she is still talking, something about the Life Flight diverting to Philadelphia and the family heading there. Is someone coming for you? Yes, I called my husband. He should be here, where is he? He appears at my side. I crumble into his arms and that flood of tears turns into a hurricane. I didn't think I could sob so much or so hard for so long. Surely I can't have any tears left!

I try to recount to him what's happened but I just can't seem to clear my head. She doesn't blame me? How is that kind of compassion possible? Someone is to blame, right? I know it isn't Reggie's fault. Deep in my gut, I know he was just a kid riding his bike on his property along a quiet rural road.

Moments before...was it really just moments? How much time has past? It feels like hours, maybe days.  I honestly don't know because time stopped the moment my big green pickup truck collided into that little 6yo boy on his bicycle.

And the questions began...questions that I could not stop... they swirled in my brain. Trying to sort the lies from the truth was becoming more difficult. Why? What if...? I'm a terrible mother. Horrible driver. You should have seen him. Is he to blame? How is compassion from his mom possible? Life flight means it's bad, and it's all your fault. God! HOW COULD YOU ALLOW THIS AWFUL THING TO HAPPEN? Where were you? Why didn't you STOP him from riding into the road? Just 20 seconds sooner or 20 seconds later... You hold the universe and time in Your hands... YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THIS. Compassion... what is true? I don't know anymore.

Fear is taking over... how will this effect my future? I'm home again... life is happening around me & there is a knock at our door... it's the police.

to be continued...

October 7, 2015

Dreams...Part 1

Before you read any further, I encourage you to go read THIS POST from Proverbs 31 Ministries written by Glynnis Whitwer.
This devotion was the inspiration for my post & I wanted to TRY to share my answer to the question:
"What God-inspired dreams do you have in your heart now?" I warn you...this story is a long one...but it was life changing & sometimes life changing stories are long! It's my heart's desire that you find hope & encouragement in my story...as penned by God.

The key verse from the PR31 post, Jeremiah 1:5, is one God led me to over 15 years ago while I was walking through one of THE HARDEST moments in my life. (Like many of you, I've had more than one hard moment in my 45 years) You see, I have worked with children my ENTIRE life...well except for maybe the first 5 years of my life...that's when I became a big sister! My mom liked to remind me that the one thing I ALWAYS wanted to be was a mom!

I have spent the last 30 years of my life serving the children of my church family in varying roles from student help to ministry coordinator to paid staff-a DREAM come true. There is a funny-ironic-only God can do this story attached to my current paid staff position, but that's for another day!

I've been a big sister, played house & school-much to my brother's dismay at times because he was ALWAYS the pupil & I the teacher, babysat, driven school bus, worked in a preschool, am a mom to a 22yo son, been the homeroom mom so many times the students referred to me as "Class Mom" by the time graduation rolled around, am a second mom to many-wow is that a blessing, and served the children in my church family. I'm an aunt to 10 nieces and nephews ranging in age from 3 yrs old to 30+ as well as several niece-in-laws, whom I also adore. I am a great aunt to 2 nieces & 3 nephews. To say children have been a HUGE part of my life would be an understatement. I do not have a degree of any kind from a college, trade school or university, just a life filled with on-the-job training, observing & independent study. I LOVE KIDS....of all ages!

I promise that bit of history does relate...and is crucial to the story ahead.

Back to that hard moment, when God first led me to Jeremiah 1:5. My son, then 6 yo, & I were driving home after a fabulous fun-filled day at our local pool. Our family had FINALLY purchased a piece of property that was ours. Okay, technically speaking I guess the bank owns it...but hey let's not rest on technicalities in this story! That 31 acre piece of property was a very long faith-building, challenge-ridden wait and that is another story for another day. Suffice it to say, we were ecstatic! So, we decided we wanted to drive home past our new property to see if daddy was there. Picnics in our new "kitchen" (a picnic table & grill) had become pretty normal the last few months. 

That decision changed my life, completely. One seemingly small insignificant decision on which way to drive home...

Daddy wasn't there so we continued home, a way we didn't normally go from the pool but one that was becoming very familiar to us since our land purchase. I was familiar enough with this way home to know that one house along our route had children who played in the front yard. So, we were sure not to speed down that road. We approached that house & all was fine. We passed the house without incident. 

Then suddenly, a bit further down the road across the creek near a fence row, a young boy on a bicycle appeared in the road out of nowhere. Right in front of my big green pick up truck. I am pretty certain that I screamed. I hit the brakes, tried to swerve. Instead we heard a crunch, felt a bump & I saw something fly up past the passenger side window....where my 6yo son was sitting. 

I had hit the young boy on his bicycle. Had I run him over too? I couldn't breathe.

The truck stopped...the moment slowed to a crawl, like in the movies. I heard no sounds. I couldn't move. And suddenly, all sound came rushing back & we sprang into action. I sent my little son to the house door for help, while I jumped out of the truck to find the young boy...praying that my big green pick up truck had NOT run him over. 

He was nowhere to be found. Lord, where is he? I see his bike-what a mess! Tears well up in my eyes...There....in the rocky ditch on the side of the road... laid a crumpled heap...is it? It was... the young boy. I rushed to him. Was he breathing? I don't think I ran him over. Was that him who flew past our window? Jesus, please!....a car stops...I yell, call 911!

His parents arrive & mom scoops him up-I would do the same. His sister, unbeknownst to me at the time has taken my son under her wing with a kitten in hand removing him from the scene that is unfolding on the side of the road. My first aid training kicks in & I realize that mom picking him up was a bad idea, so I pray...silently in my head...Jesus....please protect him!!! I realize he is in bad shape, awful shape...where is the ambulance? What is his name? May I pray for him? (Where did THAT question come from? I NEVER pray with people I don't know! Again....another piece of the story for another day!)

So I pray, out loud for this young boy, Reggie, on the side of the road. Broken, battered, bruised beyond belief...where has this calmness come from? It doesn't remain. The abulance, emt's & police arrive on the scene. They take over. I walk away & crumble into a million pieces as the gravity of the situation hits me full force.

My 6 yo son & I, in our big green pick up truck, just hit a 6 yo boy on his bicycle. 

Here comes the helicopter...this is bad. Really, really bad. I sit in the grass & weep...

to be continued...

October 5, 2015


It's a word we do battle with from a very young age.

Our parents want us to obey for many reasons...to keep us safe & grow up healthy.
The laws call for us to follow them... to avoid anarchy & chaos.
The Lord desires our hearts obey His call...to bring fullness of joy.

Any yet, we buck obedience daily. Our sinful nature fights against obedience. Why? It seems we think we know what's best for us. 

It started in the garden...ONE rule...just ONE...it should have been easy to follow, right? I mean, how hard can it be to just NOT eat from ONE tree when there is an ENTIRE garden FULL of trees & plants you can eat from. And yet, that is exactly what Adam & Eve did. 

God created us with a will to choose..and that first disobedient choice has led to a lifetime of choices for each one of us. Obedience goes against our sinful-willful-self centered nature that entered each of us on that fateful day.

How do we remain obedient? How do we stand strong against those temptations...the ones that make soooo much sense & sound so good? I would love to know what went through Eve's thoughts as she debated eating that ONE forbidden fruit.

Did she battle against herself, ask the Lord for a sign, wonder why she couldn't eat it, reach for it only to draw back yet reach for it again, turn to walk away then look back over her shoulder, cry out to God, rationalize that God really only told Adam not her...what went on in her mind as she made that choice?

I know for me many times when God calls me to obedience...doesn't really matter what area of my life it is...I find myself doing all of the above as I struggle to obey His call, His desire, His will & bring my heart into obedience. 

Yet...at times...I fall short of a heart of obedience..

How do we handle our disobedience? Do we hide in shame as Adam & Eve did? Do we blame someone else as they did? OR do we pick ourselves up, acknowledge what we've done, ask His forgiveness & begin again with a heart of obedience?

I'd like to think that I do the latter when I stumble & fall into disobedience..that I seek out my Heavenly Father & His forgiveness rather than believe the enemies lies and hide in shame from the ONE who loves me. Or worse yet...blame someone else for my choice, my decision, my disobedience.

Lord, May I always trust in You with all my heart, not leaning on my own understanding, acknowledging You in everything that You may make my crooked paths straight. Leading me straight to You & Your will & Your hearts' desire for my life.