Custom-designed Crosses-1

“No fair!  It’s not my fault.”  Cries heard on the playground.  Unfortunately many of us fail to leave our childish whines and accusations behind when we reach adulthood.  Moaning and groaning about the heavy crosses we must bear, placing the blame for those crosses on others, or on the circumstances of our lives, even occasionally blaming God stilts our spiritual growth.  And trust me, others eventually  find our lamenting irritating as well.  Lately I’ve realized the custom designed crosses I carry, crosses of my own making.

Getting much too personal:  Over a span of five years I birthed two healthy daughters and lost three additional babies. Discouragement followed.  I told myself to “get over it,”  and threw myself into my teaching, and into “living” my religion.  I would be the best Bible thumpin’, scripture quotin’, right livin’, Christian ever.  But when my ‘teaching’ let me down, my spiritual agility faltered as well.  I sank into a deep, chronic depression which triggered asthma, obesity, high blood pressure, and diabetes–which I call crosses of my own making.

I was mad–mad at my situation, mad at the fall-out from my job loss, mad at people I once believed were friends, and yes, mad at my God.  How could He let this happen to me?  His enthusiastic, determined daughter?  Wasn’t I His biggest cheerleader ever? No fair!

I prayed for healing; God delivered with a miraculously healing of asthma during a church service. One minute I was standing beside my husband and singing, “My Jesus I Love Thee”; the next an unseen Hand thumped me on the chest and sent me flying into my seat–breathless. “Great,” I thought. ” We’re on a roll!”   Understand, I’m one determined lady.  Never give up; never give in is my motto.  With rigorous exercise, proper diet and a positive attitude, I could conquer these pesky burdens. That was 25+ years ago.   But alas, for all the expensive weight loss diets, medical quacks, rainbows of diet pills, bariatric surgery, and swimming hundreds of miles at the gym, nothing has changed despite my tsunamic tears, my agonized prayers, and the bulldozers full of sheer grit I swallowed between clenched teeth.  I fluctuated between “I can do all things…” and “Be content…”Ultimately, I found myself back where I started, wallowing in self pity, self-hate, and extreme frustration, a pattern that exhausted me physically and thwarted my spiritual growth.  (to be continued)

 

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