Waiting for us at the end of my husband’s year long deployment was a loving reunion embroidered with hints of tears, fears and relief.
I grew up in an environment where complaining was considered “expression” right along with curse-words.
These patterns of sin have a way of wearing us down. We battle them in our own power for so long, trying to move the mountain of self will run riot, and then give up. We decide to just “live with it”.
The first time I tried to write this article I found myself beginning by listing all of the things that are so difficult in my life right now.
I was making excuses.
Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind (my sinful, fleshy mind) I would still rather not take full responsibility for what I am going to share with you. Something tells me I’m not the only one.
When I was a child, there was only one thing my mother would ever ask for when a holiday came around. It didn’t matter whether it was her birthday, Mother’s Day, Christmas, or some other occasion… Her one wish was always that her children would “get along.”
I struggled for a long (a very long) time, trying to shape Peter into the man I thought he ought to be if he were going to lead our home. If he were going to lead me. I’m not going to follow just anybody, you know. You had better know where you are going, because I sure do!
Sometimes it is difficult for me to get to a place of relation. Really difficult. In this case, it has nothing to do with the positive. I do not struggle to relate to Bishop T.D. Jakes because of his powerful preaching or his obvious business prowess. All those things are inside of me too (yet…