I dont know why I have such a hard time trusting God. Having Faith in His promises are not always the easiest thing for me.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the only person who showed me continuous love died when I was nine. The family let me leave the house on my way to school without allowing me the opportunity to say goodbye. By the time I got off my schoolbus that evening my mother had to hold me up as she told me the news before we even got back to the house. She was rather calculating, cold and almost callous. Not purposefully. But she was thirty. She did not know what she was going to do without her mother.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I believed when my mother called me as I sat on my twin sized dorm room bed and told me she had the very same thing her mother died from that maybe she would beat it. Maybe history would not repeat itself. Maybe getting the help she needed would be all the fight she needed. I didnt realize her husband the man who worked for the insurance agency and claimed he didnt have a life insurance policy on her at all, would not take her to the doctor. Would not allow her family and friends to talk to her. By the time I got to my mom my stepfather was on a camping trip, and after that he went to Alabama to visit. I had to call him and let him know my mother was falling and not able to get up. The decline happened so fast. He asked if I thought he should come back home. I almost cursed him out. I maintained my composure.
See by the time he got back and my mother sitting in her chair unresponsive, bed sores underneath her behind grossly out of control the fact that I wanted to call an ambulance to finally get my mother the help she needed had my stepfather and his mother looking at each other with the utoh face.
They were nervous.
See I didnt care about her mink hat and fur and leather coats that were missing. I didnt care about the gold that she had not been able to hide away was not there. I merely wanted to know why someone would not take care of another human being. Let alone someones mother. Mine. And his wife.
None of that matters.
The same day we took her to the hospital as the tests were ran the report was too bad to repeat. My mothers only medicine was Tylenol three. Yet God kept her in perfect peace. And I had to tell her almost like she did with my grandmother, rather abruptly that she didnt have long to live.
Such is life.
The beauty in all that is my time spent with her. People sitting around her bedside singing songs and holding her hand. When I finally put the APB out to her friends what her husband was hiding they came in droves. So much food. My first boyfriends mother was a CNA and she would come over and help us take care of her in the way only a CNA knows how to care for people. How to nurture the hurting, and bring light to a bleak situation.
So back to the trust issue.
For the past three days the schedule at my job has been placing me on a floor I didnt want to go. No. NO. I wont do it. I will take care of anyone. Anyone. I have my universal precautions to protect me. Nah for real. I’ve got God. But its something about the team work of the ones on the floor I prefer. Its not only women, its men too. So for the heavy stuff there is help for my still achy back. No I didnt want to leave my people. Or the teamwork I have found to be vital for me.
But the floor I was being sent to is the easiest floor in the building.
I dont care about anything easy. I know that anything worth having is worth working for. The woman that will work two full time jobs to meet a need will put in the work to please God by being his servant caring for his people.
SO today. They bring my people with me. They move the two floors around and we work together as always to make things happen.
I feel God. So heavy on me! I’m like what is it you want me to do?
Repent. For not wanting to care for his people. He sent me here to do a job. Its not about an easy load. Its not about working with the men that I will inevitably flirt and joke with all the while getting help with my set and assignment. Its about Gods will being done and me allowing Him to do it. I may not want to do it. But I have to in order to please God and be a good servant.
So. I do.
I find the one he wants me to work with. She’s working in the set of the man I need to be avoiding, the one that reminds me why people get into relationships with people they work with because they spend so much time together. The man that my flesh needs to be running from and of course as I help her he leaves me to the task. I can handle it though. God made it this way. As we give God glory together, and I cry tears of joy that she allowed me to help her when no one else on the floor she was willing to let touch her I can’t help but thank God for him allowing me to be used by him. I am thankful to be a servant!
I keep hearing that it’s time for a new thing and it is time for growth. It is time for change. It is time to let God do that new thing.
He had to strip me of everything I once knew to get me to where he needs me to be. I would have never become anything in the medical field. I would’ve been a professor of literature one day not using my gift of hospitality to make God’s people feel comfortable in troubling times.
Yes. I am a nurturer. The love I give causes hurting hearts to heal. God gave me this. Maybe I had to learn how to deal with pain on such magnified levels so that I would be of assistance to those who never learn how to deal with their pain , so they replace it with addictions.
Yes. Its no longer about me. I am at the point of, if I want to do it I am probably not supposed to. And if I don’t it is probably something God is orchestrating for me. Its going to be a blessing in it for my obedience.
I mean how easy would obedience be if we all got the chance to do something we wanted to? Obviously, its such a big deal because the things we want to do are not what God wants.
So I walk.
I write about the things in my past that hurt me in order to purge. Because I can’t be free from it until I release it.
In obedience I move. Storing up my treasures in heaven. Hoping that my Father will one tell me. Well done my good and faithful servant.