What, Exactly, Is Faith?

As you know, hubby was diagnosed almost two years ago with ALS, a terminal disease where all your voluntary muscles die. It's actually much more complicated than that, but that's a simple explanation.

Let me begin by saying that we believe in divine healing - miracles. We've actually experienced some in our own lives and have seen others who have also experienced unexplained healings and happenings. Problem is, we didn't write down the formula. I can't tell you why we received a miracle one time and not another. In all honesty, I don't believe there is a simple Step 1, Step 2, Step 3 formula, and I automatically turn a deaf ear to those who try to give me the instruction sheet. I know I must have faith (even as a grain of mustard seed). I know the healing comes to the glory of God. I've read scripture to build my faith and put me on solid standing. But that's about as far as my religious insight goes.

So, when people tell me to "call what is not as though it is" or not to say my husband has ALS, because then I'm laying claim to the disease, I struggle with that. I know there's life and death in our words, but is denying the truth speaking condemnation on ones self? I believe God can heal Don, but do I think I have some sort of secret concoction for obtaining this healing? No! If God was limited by our words, how did Jesus raise Lazarus? Mary and Martha were both rather blunt with Jesus in telling him he had come too late. What about those times when people were raised from the dead when the mourners were already outside the door going through their loud chants and groanings? It didn't limit God's ability in any way.

I'm probably being far too "open" in posting my feelings, but I'll freely confess that I don't understand all spiritual things. I know God is in control, and I know that both Don and I strive to live our lives in a way we believe is pleasing to Him. If being positive means I put off or fail to deal with daily needs he has, then I'll have to decline that positive stance. If having faith means I accept where I am today and deal with it in an affirmative way, knowing that God can still, in His omnipotent power, reach down and give my sweetheart a miracle - then, I'm in. Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief!

With a Thankful Heart

The last few days have been very busy around here. The roof over our attached garage began leaking a few months back. Don's brother fixed the leak, but a re-roofing job was imperative. On Friday, Tom and a friend started the job. It was cold, windy and misty. A nasty day to be on a roof, but they persevered. Saturday, more help showed up, the day went well, and we went to bed thankful for God's goodness in giving us such a wonderful family and friends. Today, Sunday, was the best crew ever. They finished the job in record time. My brother, who has Parkinson's and wasn't keen on getting on the roof, cut out my burning bushes in front of the house that I've been loathing for the last couple of years. He also trimmed our Chinese dogwood tree; it looks so nice. Dondra had come down last night and helped me prepare three pans of enchiladas. Think I probably had about 16 people eat lunch here. (I know it was more than 12, because we used all my dinnerware and had to pull out the everyday set.) When they left, my kitchen was clean. The yard looks better than it has for a long time. They picked up every single bit of trash out of the yard. I have a new roof. And God has once again proven his great faithfulness and favor.

On the negative side, we've seen a bit of failing in Don the last few days. Don't know if it's the colder weather or what, but his lower body is weaker. Think that stopped him from being out there almost the whole time someone was working on the house? Not on your life! He's such a trooper.

It amazes me how God can drop peace in a heart right in the middle of a dark night. Hope in the midst of hopelessness. Joy in the enduring of hard trials. He is ever faithful and good to His children. I want to hug Him close - with a thankful heart.

It's a Good Life

Today, my "baby" boy turned 42. That's so hard for me to believe. We had everyone over to the house for dinner to celebrate. Yummy (totally unhealthy) meal of roast, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, green beans, yeast rolls and yum yum for dessert - cherry or chocolate, your choice.

I can't keep my mind from wandering back 42 years ago, when that precious baby boy was born. I was 19 and totally excited to be a new mom. He was such a perfect first baby. Easy-going, good eater, not demanding or given to fits of temper. He was sleeping 12 hours a night when he was two weeks old - unheard of nowadays. A good "starter" child for a young woman who thinks she has it all together (but, in reality, has so much to learn). I loved being a mom. We were very strapped financially, but I tried to make good times for us anyway. Hubby worked straight afternoons, so it was Jeff and I together for long hours most days. We sang. I read stories to him. I got in the floor and played with him. I taught him, and he was so eager to learn - EVERYTHING!

The teen years brought some heartache and indecision on our part. We weren't certain how to handle him all the time, and I think he knew that. But we all survived.

Forty-two years have passed. He's grown into a wonderful man, and his life encompasses so much - loving husband, caring father, successful businessman, Godly example to his family. A man of integrity. Who could ask for more?

I reflect, and I thank God. We haven't always done things right, but we've always had hearts after God. Seeing who and what our son has become makes me proud. Life has been good - to us and to him.