John woke up at 530 today, and like so many other times we ended up on the couch with him snoozing and breathing gently on my shoulder-those little puffs of baby breath more precious than gold. I do some of my best thinking and praying while holding babies or maybe just watching the kids play sometimes.
This is what occurred to me today. As a believer, I may not have the understanding of my San Diego family, at least as far as them believing what I believe, or not sometimes thinking I may have imbibed a little too much of “the Kool-Aid.” I may not have the support of much of the country, because it certainly seems to be trending toward Godlessness. For my own part–because I am not perfect–I may even have doubts sometimes about the goodness of God, especially when I see some of the jacked up stuff going on out there in the big, wide, ugly world.
But the young man I am holding needs me, and trusts me, and looks to me to know how to live. The one sleeping down the hall does, too, even if we struggle sometimes.
The woman sleeping in our bed, in our home, in the life we’ve made for ourselves loves me, too. She needs me to be capable, and Godly, and strong. On my own, I am none of those things.
I am weak, and callow, and filled with all manner of vile things.
But I am not on my own, not since March of 2000.
That’s when I decided I needed a savior.
For my family, for my home, for my future, for myself, I had to (and have to) make a decision for myself, even if it means a lot of things in my life will suffer because of it: