Attitude Adjustment

  Oh dear, oh dear. Lets just say it like it is: I've been pretty bitchy lately. Ungrateful for the many ways God has blessed me, and cranky about the ways He has tested me. I know it wasn't long ago that I blogged in a state of euphoria about how He held me close and comforted my broken heart, but things changed as time grew between Phoebe and me. It seemed that God was nowhere to be found, even when I begged for just a little "sign" of sorts... I kept thinking to myself that once we dealt with our loss of Phoebe as graciously as we could, He might give us some awesome break. Win the lotto or something. I've never once doubted that He exists, but recently I have asked myself, "Whats the point of praying if apparently He never listens?" Silly me.
   Here's the back story: I thought God was giving us our "break" when we found our dream home for sale. It was a gorgeous old farmhouse on a few acres of land perfectly suited for a few horses, chickens, and a cow. It even had another building on site that would have made a perfect shop for Paul's future woodworking business. $67,000.We prayed and prayed, faithfully asking Phoebe's intercession and believing she would "find a way" since she owes us big time. We put in our offer the very first business day after we saw the house. Paul drove out to Winchester to place the offer and was told if he'd been there just two hours earlier we would have got the house; meanwhile, I was checking my email and learning that our tenant was ditching us 4 months into a year lease and had no plans to pay us for the last month. Earlier that same day another important event took place, one that was so close to our hearts - I went to get my blood tested to try to find out why I miscarry like I do. We had hoped it would just be low progesterone, because that is a common problem and pretty easy to fix. The blood work came back perfectly normal, with no answer for our problem.

   So it came to pass I arrived at a point of despair and hopelessness. I couldn't remember how to pray, what to pray, or why to pray. I bitched and bitched - ask Paul! Crazy bitchy... I envisioned all those babies I carried and ache for every day partying it up in Heaven with God, and all of them having too much fun to hear me when I cried for help.
  Then there was this homily by a guest Priest last Sunday. He said, "If it's clearly not the voice of the Holy Spirit you hear, then obviously it's somebody else...if it's saying evil things about our Lord, then you can bet it's not a Heavenly being." Creepy huh? And me, such a sucker. Of course God is listening, and as for the break....well, I still think He could handle giving us some magical sign or something fun like that, but if the break is simply peace of heart that comes with leaning on Jesus, why then, it's been within my reach all along!
   I told the girls at our Women's Bible Study about my hard headedness. It's so clear from another's perspective. They all agreed I should simply tell Satan to get the crap away from me and don't come back. Ah! Novel idea. Why didn't I think of it myself? I'll just tell him where to put it. Problem solved.
   The Magnificat must have been designed by God for me personally. (Sorry, fellow Magnificat readers...lol) Bible Study was just last night, so in my first return to it this morning this poem was the beginning of the devotion:

Come, let us to the Lord our God

With contrite hearts return;

Our God is gracious nor will leave

The desolate to mourn.

 Seriously? I mean, really! Does that not fit my current situation to a T? Following was Psalm 6, and this is definitely what jumped out at me, after having been advised by the bible study girls as mentioned previously:

Leave me alone, all you who do evil;

For the Lord has heard my weeping.

The Lord has heard my plea;

The Lord will accept my prayer.

All my foes will retire in confusion,

Foiled and suddenly confounded.

   Yes, an attitude adjustment is in order. What I need to stop believing is that something incredible will happen to Paul, Jonah, and I just because we were pretty good sports about losing Phoebe. No more hoping for a jack pot lotto ticket that will pay our way into a gloriously distracting vacation, no more setting hopes on dream homes. Nothing more like that because the thing is - and God knows it  - they wouldn't help anyway. 

PS -

I especially like the idea of sending off my foes confused, foiled, and suddenly confounded. Mwahaha!