*knock knock knock knock We’ve spent the last four days driving a little over 2,000 miles and now we’re exhausted. That said, there is no part of me that is annoyed or perturbed as I …
FAQ: Where are you going?
Frequent and insufficient answer: Southern Mexico. Like the skinny part of Mexico.
The older I get the more I am convinced that there is beauty wherever you look. Trash heap? Look closer and find the rogue flower growing in the midst of utter filth. Desert? Wait for the sunset.
And that’s how it happens. Emotional land mines planted years prior get stepped on. Insecurities get triggered. Fears come to the surface. But, the miracle of marriage is that you get to work on it together. But, you can’t give up.
My hope and prayer is that I can say with Paul that I have run the race as one wanting to win the prize. That I dedicated everything I was to the cause of making disciples and loving the people that God created to be in His own image.
“I will get you to Cruces,” it sounded like a whisper of something more than impossible. I felt like the Israelites as they watched Pharaoh’s army ride down towards them on golden chariots filled with angry archers. “We’re going to die” is a much more human response than is “God’s got this.”
I look at my wife as I hold her in front of our mirror. Her fake tooth is a slightly different color than her other ones, and her hair is a little thin on top, but, she’s beautiful in a way that photoshopped women could never be. She loves me completely, simply, passionately, and without the expectation that she’ll be paid back.
But, wouldn’t you rather be in a position where you are so dependent on God, where nothing else can possibly solve the problem or come to your rescue except for Him, then in a place where He is distant and cold- more of a distant thought and less than an actual being?
The fever was 103.5 degrees and the nurse was a little more than worried when the first four Tylenol didn’t bring it down a single degree.
More prayers. More waiting. More drip drip drip of the fluids.
You can’t turn the key the third time in the middle of an international security check point and call on a wimpy, well-groomed, smiling, effeminate Jesus. I don’t want that Jesus to show up and “save” me.