The Line

Sometimes we have to draw our own line in the sand and say that on this side, I stand on the side of the Lord. I was reminded that this week when I was overcome be a feeling of unworthiness and felt so small. I perceived myself in this moment of depression that to my earthyly father that I was delegated to something less important than the plate of home made cookies he had been eating.

I was stuck in that same thought, wrote angry hurtful things and then took a deep breath.

In a matter of moments not only had I approached that line in the sand, but in a state of misery, I was standing on the other side.

How quickly that happened.

Dwelling over painful things, borrowing trouble and listening to every word that the enemy hissed into my ears.

In these moments of weakness I found myself feeling lost and confused and wanting nothing more than to mope and suffer in my misery.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. J asked.

“Cookies were more important than me.” I answered petulantly.

And then I realized how absurd that was. My father loves me. He was likely just pushing my buttons and had been exactly that, too busy.

My mother and father are surrounded by too busies. Too busy to call, too busy to reply to email, too busy to answer on facebook, too busy watching tv, too busy bowling, too busy packing, too busy.. too busy … tooooo buuussssy.

And that was when I realized why it was important to keep writing to my father.

The “Too busy” kept him on the other side of the line.

Maybe I wanted to be there with him to feel comfort in that safe place without knowing, without the love or blessings that had come into my life just so I could be with my father.

Now that sounds even crazier!

I’ll keep writing, even if he never reads.

I’ll keep writing because he doesn’t listen.

I’ll keep writing because he may not believe anymore.

I’ll keep writing because this battle in the war for our souls is one I’m determined to help Heavenly Father win.

I’ll keep writing because the loss of his first grandchild and his father, far too close together, robbed him of his perceived spiritual rock.

I’ll keep writing because he never stopped praying for me or believing in me when I too had wandered far into enemy territory.

I’ll keep writing because I’m waiting for him, on this side of the line with open arms.

I’ll keep writing because I love him.

I’ll keep writing because my HOPE comes from the Lord.

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