(A response to a Captivating Retreat held up in The Rockies)
What can I say? A Christian since I was 20 years old – serving, working, trudging, bearing up under the “Saintly” longsuffering of “a woman of God”, duty, obligation, tiredness, loss. If Christ came to fill us with joy, why was I so worn out and joyless? What was I missing in this? Was heaven my only hope in this life?
I wept as I read, .
Though I shouldn’t have been, but I was caught off guard.
Insomnia has been plaguing me for the last year. It’s all because of useless worry. I’m a fixer. It’s hard for me to let go.
My dear mom had a stroke and every night I desperately prayed over and over again, “God, what do I do? I’m a speech pathologist…should I work with her myself? Find a different rehab program? Hire someone to come into the home? I’m listening, God! Please tell me!”
I had prayed this over and over again, but rarely was quiet enough to hear an answer.