The Journey

This past Sunday the kids, Kevin, and I went to church.  It's the summer season at our church and it's not that I mind it so much as the associate pastors often preach during this time.  Not that that's a problem because we have some really great associate pastors, but they're not always as interesting as the senior pastor. 

This particular Sunday was an associate pastor's turn to preach and his sermon was titled "The Journey" mainly to tie into the story of the two disciples that didn't recognize Jesus on the road after the Resurrection.  I found myself thinking back to the days of going to church with my grandparents and listening to their pastor give his sermon.  He had this particular tick that my cousins and I would count to see the number of times it occurred during his sermon.  The "tick" the associate pastor used this past Sunday was the term "Your Journey".  I joked that in order to keep from having the lyrics, "Don't stop, believin!" going through my head at every mention of the term Journey I started thinking about my journey this year.

People have often reminded me of the poem, "Footprints" about a man looking back on his life and always seeing two sets of footprints, but periodically (during the rough times) only one set.  It is then explained that at these times God didn't abandon the man but carried him instead.  And that when I look back on my life, I will see this as well.  I tend to disagree with people, but since it's rude to contradict (and they're only trying to help in the best way they know how) I don't say anything. 

When I look back on my Journey, I will always see two sets of footprints.  Most of the time I will see them side by side, but in times of trouble or sorrow I will see my foot prints with Gods circling on the perimeter.  An incident happened on Saturday night that helps illustrate this point.  At the dinner table something happened and it made Caroline upset and angry.  She ended up leaving the table and going to her room.  I left her alone and after awhile, she came back to the table and carried on with dinner.  All she needed was time, and the knowledge that I would be there no matter what if she needed me.

I feel that God is there for me and will lift me up and support me should I need it.  But most of the time he lets me live my life and come to my decisions in my own time (but always staying nearby should I need him).  Over the course of my journey this year, I believe he has intervened in such a way as a parent would intervene should their child need them.  He knows I will always come back to the same conclusions each time I am faced with a trial. 

I admitted in one of my last blogs, that I was angry when Jason died (even though I had been grieving for a little while).  I was more angry that Jason had gone to Heaven and left two small children without their father.  I even admit that I somewhat stumbled in my faith.  But through the generous hearts of my Sunday school class, the church, family and friends I have been slowly finding my way back.  All of those supports have come from God.  When I was stumbling he moved in to help, as any parent would.  And when I grieved for my children's sake he sent a comforting arm to soothe. 

So the sermon was most helpful in guiding me to think about my Journey with God and how it translates into my new life.  Most people may not agree with my thinking, but that's okay.  It's okay with God, and I know because he has never abandoned me.  And that's what matters.