Tuesday, December 29, 2009


Earlier this month, I began a journey that has forced me to consider just how much faith I actually have and where it is placed. This journey was jump-started with the abrupt and unexpected loss of my job. Since then, I've been on a roller-coaster of stress, anger, fear and other emotions I'm not familiar enough with to give a name to. I've also been witness to some of the most amazing outpouring of care and love that I've ever seen outside of my own family. Friends and family alike have rallied around us to give advice, support, encouragement and even some unexpected Christmas gifts for our kids. We had a wonderful, quiet, white Christmas with the kids, and have not yet felt the true sting of the major loss of income we're facing. But as the New Year approaches, the bank account dwindles, and no real prospects have panned out, the old creeping fear starts dancing through my thoughts and keeping me awake at night.
Its during these sleepless hours that I struggle with my faith and I've prayed with all my might to be able to overcome my weakness. In my heart, I know that God is in complete control of our situation, that He loves us and will not let us down. But my mind races down avenues of possibilities and worst case scenarios that are all too close to simply ignore.
Then, a couple of nights ago, my son taught me an important lesson about faith. Shortly after learning to walk, he learned to climb. It has been a constant battle since then to keep him off the higher furniture and counters in the house and prevent a major accident occurring. As my wife and I were preparing dinner, I heard the tell-tell sound of his grunts as he scaled some piece of our kitchen landscape. I turned to see him just cresting the top of the dinner table. I scolded him, and told him to get down. He smiled at me (ladies, beware this smile) and took two steps forward--
right off the edge of the table. His smile never wavered for an instant, and he even laughed out loud as I caught him a few inches from impact. Heart hammering in my chest, I was on the verge of reprimanding him until it hit me...
My son had just demonstrated the true and perfect faith that we should have in our Heavenly Father.
Later that night, I wept as I prayed. Not the tears of frustration or fear that had been pressing on the backs of my eyes for weeks, but tears of joy, faith even. I felt truly at peace with the knowledge that even though I feel like I'm hurtling over the edge of a cliff, God is waiting with open arms to catch me and put me back on solid ground.
Regards, Chimneyphish

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