Pity Party Please....
Pour out your hearts like water to the Lord. Lift up your hands to him in prayer-
Lamentations 2:19
Good morning. What a week. Whew.
Since writing is therapy to me, here goes.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
Sometimes, many times, I have to just say those words over and over until they sink in.
As I wrote in my prayer journal this week, tears streamed down my face. I felt ashamed at the words that I was writing to God. I felt like I would regret the pity party I was having with Him.
But, it's not like that with Him. I think He wants us to pour our hearts out to Him. He knows what's going on inside anyway. No use hiding.
As I poured out my heart, not holding back, I felt a slow release.
I had to tell Him. I had to let Him know my feelings about all the things that I just do not understand.
Some are long ago heartaches, some are unanswered prayers, some are desires that seem to fall flat, some are just self condemnation that rears its ugly head from time to time, and some of it is just life. The hard, gnawing, intensity of life.
It all just reached a boiling point this week. The enemy was there at every turn to remind me of how little God thought of me. How little He cared. How little He noticed. How little He loved.
Ever been there?
As I was lamenting to the Lord on my couch, my kids walked in. Ugh. My reading glasses were fogged up and my nose was puffy and red. I could not deny my state of sadness.
I really did not want to explain this to them. I just wanted to have a pity party of one.
But, they prodded and pressed. And pressed some more.
I gave in and spilled my heart to them.
Then, immediately regretted being so vulnerable.
But, the sweetest thing happened afterwards...
They ministered to me. Their words were like a balm to my wounded heart.
How could this be?
I am supposed to be the strong one. The wise one. The counselor. The momma.
But, not this time.
God used their child like faith to minister to my soul better than any professional counselor could.
My oldest said something wise.
He said, "Mom, when you are in the valley, you grow. Remember? You told me that and it was true. You told me that your character forms and you learn more than you ever would when things are going great. You need to remember that now, Mom."
I wanted to crawl under the couch. I hate feeling this vulnerable. Especially with my kids.
But, this conversation turned into a sweet time of sharing. Of laughter. Of tears.
We all ended up sharing stories of how we had felt unnoticed at times. Left out. Without an identity.
It was healing. It was good. It was just what my heart needed.
Sometimes God uses people. Many times God uses people.
This time, He used my own kids.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
kids are a gift,
jill
Lamentations 2:19
Good morning. What a week. Whew.
Since writing is therapy to me, here goes.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
Sometimes, many times, I have to just say those words over and over until they sink in.
As I wrote in my prayer journal this week, tears streamed down my face. I felt ashamed at the words that I was writing to God. I felt like I would regret the pity party I was having with Him.
But, it's not like that with Him. I think He wants us to pour our hearts out to Him. He knows what's going on inside anyway. No use hiding.
As I poured out my heart, not holding back, I felt a slow release.
I had to tell Him. I had to let Him know my feelings about all the things that I just do not understand.
Some are long ago heartaches, some are unanswered prayers, some are desires that seem to fall flat, some are just self condemnation that rears its ugly head from time to time, and some of it is just life. The hard, gnawing, intensity of life.
It all just reached a boiling point this week. The enemy was there at every turn to remind me of how little God thought of me. How little He cared. How little He noticed. How little He loved.
Ever been there?
As I was lamenting to the Lord on my couch, my kids walked in. Ugh. My reading glasses were fogged up and my nose was puffy and red. I could not deny my state of sadness.
I really did not want to explain this to them. I just wanted to have a pity party of one.
But, they prodded and pressed. And pressed some more.
I gave in and spilled my heart to them.
Then, immediately regretted being so vulnerable.
But, the sweetest thing happened afterwards...
They ministered to me. Their words were like a balm to my wounded heart.
How could this be?
I am supposed to be the strong one. The wise one. The counselor. The momma.
But, not this time.
God used their child like faith to minister to my soul better than any professional counselor could.
My oldest said something wise.
He said, "Mom, when you are in the valley, you grow. Remember? You told me that and it was true. You told me that your character forms and you learn more than you ever would when things are going great. You need to remember that now, Mom."
I wanted to crawl under the couch. I hate feeling this vulnerable. Especially with my kids.
But, this conversation turned into a sweet time of sharing. Of laughter. Of tears.
We all ended up sharing stories of how we had felt unnoticed at times. Left out. Without an identity.
It was healing. It was good. It was just what my heart needed.
Sometimes God uses people. Many times God uses people.
This time, He used my own kids.
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
kids are a gift,
jill
