High Class Problems, Chapter 2

When I wrote a post last year about High Class Problems,
I asked the Lord to forgive me for complaining about the stress of book revisions
and the pain of living ten hours from our grandkids.

Since then, I’ve encountered these people:


1. A dad who’s nearly blind because of diabetes raising his four kids alone after his wife took off with an online lover;

2. The sister-in-law of an acquaintance having to continue to work while going through chemo, because she’s the sole insurance carrier of the family;

3. A dear friend visiting her son in a psychiatric hospital the week before Christmas to tell him that his grandpa—her dad—passed away.

Again, I feel overwhelmed by the blessings of health, family, and freedom I often take for granted.

1. So, we hit a deer and our car was in the shop for four days—we had a church van to use, and the insurance covered all but $250 of the repairs. Our car now smiles in the sun, showing off her face-lift.


2. So, our son could be with us at Christmas for three days—we have a healthy, brilliant son who loves us enough to drive ten hours over snowy roads to visit us.

3. So, I’m stilled bummed that I can’t see my darling grandkids more than three times a year—but they cannon into us when we arrive, knocking us over with joy. Perhaps if we were next door to them, we’d not get that royal treatment. We are heroes to them, and that just feel s so spectacular.

Once again, Lord, forgive me for complaining about my high class problems. Please use me to lift up those who are broken and hurting, showing them the way to You.

When you are tempted to grumble about your leaky ship, does the Lord show you someone in a sinking boat, to give you perspective?

Adventures in Fasting

I wonder if I should fast. This is pretty serious.

My friend Allison was scheduled for an MRI. She had been operated on for a brain tumor a year ago, and this was a routine check up, but I knew she was nervous about it. Kevin and I had been praying, but a little added oomph seemed in order. That’s when I got the idea to fast.

I realize that fasting doesn’t change God’s mind about a situation. It’s not a method for manipulating Him to do things your way. It’s more a means to humble yourself, so you can hear His voice more clearly. It’s getting serious about being in the center of His will. And nothing spells serious like going without food.

My problem is, I become Miss Cranky Pants* when I miss a meal. Which isn’t good if you work with the public, serve in ministry, and write a column about God’s grace. Aha.

As I pondered my dilemma I noticed the title of the book we were studying in our Sunday school class, “Me and My Big Mouth.” I turned it over to view the synopsis on the back, and read one of the chapter headings: Fasting Includes Your Mouth. Oh dear.

Further investigation led me to Isaiah 58, where God rebukes the Israelites for fasting food but continuing to sin with their words and wicked attitudes. The word that choked my conscience was in verse 9, where God says, “Remove the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness.” Hmm.

I’ll fast complaining, I thought. Every time I’m tempted to grumble or be negative with my mouth, I will pray for Allison instead. I was so proud of my bright idea, I began immediately.

While getting ready for work, the thought presented itself to criticize my hair like I do many days. "What good does it do to have naturally curly hair if the curls don’t go the direction I want them to? This mop is a mess." Oops! Fasting complaining. I almost forgot. “Lord, help Allison to not be scared today during her MRI. Let her feel your love.” While rushing to check emails before leaving the house, the temptation came to grouse about my overflowing inbox. "If Facebook didn’t notify me every time someone glanced in my direction I could manage these emails better." Oops! Fasting whining. Get your thoughts in order. “Father, speak to Allison during her test today, please. Help her believe your love for her.”

All morning long I fought with griping gremlins and disparaging demons. By the time I looked at the clock and realized Allison’s test was over I felt like I’d wrestled a grizzly with my bare hands. And I wasn’t sure who’d won.

I’d mistakenly thought managing my mouth would be easier than taming my tongue. I was wrong. The habit of negative words and thoughts was stronger than my appetite for food. Bummer.

The one good thing that came from this bright idea, other than a realization of my need to be more positive? Allison got a ton of prayer!

*this phrase stolen from a good sport and fellow blogger Sherrinda