Coming Home

Got home from San Diego yesterday, early evening; hoping for a warm welcome from the hubby who stayed behind for the weekend. Greeted by a quick kiss and then a wall of depression was disappointing to say the least.

I'm at a loss for words, even to my God. I snapped at my son this morning, very uncalled for. I can't focus on my husband's words. All I hear are dreams that don't have a road; dreams that have no engine to drive them. My own words are boring and repetitive; condescending and judgmental.

In one moment, I ask God to teach me and show me life. In the next moment, I scream at him that the lesson is too hard. There is no middle ground right now.

Ahhhhhh. Okay God, I hear that. There is no middle life - you are for HIM or against HIM. Yes, God, I'll sell everything and follow you. Oh, wait, did you mean that item, too? That's my favorite. It's sentimental. That is the only piece of luxury my husband and I have. Okay, I'll get rid of it. That, too? Wait, I need that...

Enough is enough. I will pray, even when I don't hear an answer. I will pray, even when I don't like the answer. I will pray, even when I don't know what to say. I will pray, I will pray, I will pray.