Not a Mere Coincidence

Yesterday, I glanced at my odometer and it read 198,188.  I thought about how frequently that odometer has ended recently with a zero, a five or an excessive number of eights, and I just happen to see it.

We live waaaay out of town.  I typically drive over 100 miles a day, and believe you drive a paid off vehicle until it dies or you no longer need it.

I noted once again the happy tick in my heart at coincidentally seeing a "fun number," and knew in an instant it was no coincidence.

I'm not happy right now.  As an eternal optimist these past 44 years, this period of injury is getting on my last nerve.  Add in an assortment of other issues (like dogs pooping in the house and shredding shoes, teen drama, the inability to scrub my shower, discord with the King and complete disenchantment with several organizations and people) and these are days to just get through.

But up pops an unexpected 8.

Born on 8-8.  I could bore you with the litany of why 8 is the best number, but I am only able to type with my thumb.

I love the number 8.  My family knows it, and some of my friends.  Then there's the one who introduced me to the world on 8-8.

The Big Guy Upstairs.

It occurs to me that when my kids are down, I do little things to remind them I love them.  Could these little "fun numbers" and my momentary attention on them be nothing more than my Heavenly Father pointing them out to me? Afterall, they certainly make me smile.

I love the Lord my God with all my heart and soul.  He is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End.  As a former widow, I have experienced the Maker as my husband.  I truly feel I know God, that He is more than a Father.  My faith in the Trinity has never wavered; Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior.  These foundational truths remain constant.

However.

 In the past few years, I've become very discouraged by the behavior of those who say they follow Christ; it's impacted my life so many times for the worse.  My crisis of faith is primarily with the church, not with God.

Oh, God and I do get into it, but every time I find peace with Him.  I've known, and still know, the peace that passes all understanding (as it mounts up and guards my heart...I'm an amplified girl.  You shouldn't be the least bit surprised.). On the other hand, I have no peace with the church.  In many ways, I understand those who feel it owes the world an apology.

I'm broken right now.  Literally and figuratively.  As I grapple with life decisions, I am reminded my God is mighty to save.  I long for a community of believers to stand beside me.

I've learned the hard way I can trust no one.  The callouses are getting thick.

Unless it's callus, not callous.

Bone callus is that cloudy stuff on my X-ray's that means the bone tissue is reorganizing, stabilizing and starting to heal.  What if the body of Christ was like callus instead?  A support for healing?

My God is loving, patient and kind.  It is my belief it's been Him who was drawn my attention repeatedly to these "fun numbers," just as a parent distracts a hurt child.  Despite my doubts, sins and fears, He's showing me love in a creative way probably only I'd receive...because that's who He is.  My Maker, my Creator.

There's tremendous comfort in that.