I sit here quiet, sick, confused. It seems as if my faith and efforts to be a better steward has gone up in flames. Understanding is an enemy and the heavens are silent.
I sit here staring, overwhelmed, frustrated. Packed boxes fill our house. Unpack and resign myself, or wait?
My hope of owning a home was murdered on Thursday. Run to the creator? How can I emotionally allow myself to when I gave Him all during this entire process. A little heads up would have been nice. Is this my fault? Should I have prayed more than I did? Did my financial missteps have this situation from the start?
I am trying to be a better steward. My intentions are worth gold, but I am told that us not enough. I am not perfect and finances are my nemesis in life, just like my weight, but I try and try and I have NEVER given up at either.
To cry out to Him feels like spending time with a thief that took something from me.
My life has been lived with a passion for Jesus, my everything. Yet in these painful, confusing moments, I see him as a foe, not a friend.
I am angry at the situation. Prayer is linked with faith. My faith did not result in what I thought was the right, practical, responsible action to take.
It is difficult for me to find a balance between faith and things that are practical. Why? Didn't I learn this lesson already?
