 |
|
|
All I could do was cry. The battles between my husband and my daughter grew in intensity and frequency. I could see the enemy working as he tore at the fabric that was once my family. I lay on my bed not wanting to move and asked God for forgiveness for my cowardice, my apparent inability to break through the war that was not conceived in flesh. Why was this so hard? I just wanted a little piece of what I saw in those beautiful little snow globes—the house with the chimney, the snow people braced for cold weather, the perfect little porch with rockers and the angelic snowflakes that kissed the glass and the inhabitants within. They looked so happy, the little people pulling sleds and building forts; I wanted the dreamy life within that snow globe, and it hardly seemed possible now.
My own childhood was not horrible, but absent were the father and mother who made cocoa and bundled up children in preparation for the quest for the perfect tree. Instead, my hungry childish heart pretended from windows and slipped into imagination, often fogging up storefront windows dressed for the holidays. It would be those staged storefront households, with hearths of brick and flickering fires, that would set me on a mission to create the impossible—the snow globe family on my windowsill. So I got married at twenty-two, had two children (a boy and a girl of course), and built a house of gingerbread. Silly tot that I was, even Dr. Seuss’ Whos in Whoville knew better.
It may seem silly that a child of God would not recognize the futility of trying to build a life of sparkles and snowflakes, but that is exactly what happens when smiles mask tears and fear is overshadowed with projects and service. I thought I was seeking God’s council, I prayed, fasted and served to no avail. As Christmas approached, I did not feel like decorating the house with snow globes or miniature Victorian villages because reality finally caught up to me and riveted me to my bed. So many times I begged my family to pray with me and spend quiet time together, but no one was listening because they were too seduced by their need to be other than what God wanted, or so I thought. The truth is it was me; I was trying to be other than what God wanted. Pardon the interruption of my story. But isn’t it funny that precisely when you are at your lowest point, God reveals himself? Notice I did not say God shows up, God doesn’t show up, He’s always around—perhaps waiting for us to let Him be the Architect we long to be. What did I do? Good question. I simply asked God to use me and in doing so a peace washed over me. Was there a condition? Yes. I had to live my life for Him in the real world. Does anybody need a snow globe? It’s in pristine condition and it makes a fabulous Christmas gift.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
|
|
|
