Gratitude Friday...

Okay, so how are every one's Valentine's parties going?

Cause ours have been sugar-filled and delightful.  

Although, right now Rhys is sitting almost catatonic on the couch.  I'm assuming the sugar high has crashed and, well, he's now not entirely sure about this whole staying awake thing.  

Aubrey Kate was so excited she could hardly sleep.

I found her like this on Thursday morning.  Asleep on the couch, living room lights on.  She said she was worried she would be late to her Valentine's party.  

Bless her.

Earlier in the week, she told me she'd had a hard time falling asleep.  When I asked her why, she said, "My brain wouldn't let me.  It was too busy thinking about Valentines and telling everyone how much I love them!"

And then I died.  

Seriously.  How did she get to be so stinkin' sweet?  

If you need any evidence of a God, her precious heart is absolute proof.  Chris and I aren't that sweet. We might hit "nice" or "pleasant" on occasion.  Chris is certainly "funny" and I dabble in "sarcasm as an actual language" but we are not "sweet."  

It's okay.  We've dealt with that fact.  

They each made a Valentine for me at school.  Rhys was so excited to show me, we only made it out into the hallway before he had to retrieve it from his back pack.  

Listen.  I cried.

Rhys is not a crafter.  It's not his love language.  I'm fine with that.  He'll find a way to be creative in some other manner.  But heavens, he does know how to love and show love.  So I know this was a big deal to him that he actually MADE something for me.  

And so I cried.

(Children, I can almost guarantee you will find this Valentine still in my nightstand when you load me up to take me to the home.  Hear me now.  THIS GOES WITH ME.)

(Thanks, y'all.)

As for me, I am currently alternating heat and ice on my neck.

Not 100% sure but I think this is my Formula for Neck Strain...

Sit for 30 minutes in a preschool chair at Rhys' school + Running 20+ miles a week + possible dehydration (I'd only had one bottle of water by Rhys' party) = Neck Strain

I'm hoping a zillion gallons of water, some stretches, heat and ice and maybe some rest tonight will help this nastiness leave.

Especially since I have eleven miles to run tomorrow.

And I feel like I'd rather NOT run those with neck pain.  

The leg pain and running against the wind, in every direction, and the general boredom is enough to overcome.  

This week, though, I dove into "The American Life" and "Hope*ologie" podcasts.  "This American Life" has something like six thousand episodes.  I feel like that's probably enough to keep me busy for these last three long runs.  The "Hope*ologie" ones are much shorter and full of golden nuggets of truth.  They require more attention so they're perfect for my mid-week three or five mile runs.  

Go ahead and list those podcasts as the first things on my gratitude list.  

Anything that makes me literally laugh out loud while running is GOOD.  

(See TAL episode #578, "I Thought I Knew You," Act II)

(Pure gold.)

The second thing on my list is infertiles.  God continues to send us couples to walk alongside during their journey.  We've got two in our small group.  A couple of weeks ago, we had a prayer session for them.  And y'all, God showed up.  Like could reach out and touch Him, showed up. 

Powerfully.

This week, I got an email update from one precious lady.  She's overwhelmed.  Because nothing's ever easy in the world of infertility treatments.  

So I'm writing her back and SO MUCH the words to say to her just came.  As soon as I read the words she sends, I know the words to send back.  And every time that happens, I am again reminded that this is my jam.  My ministry.  

For many women, going through those dark days of infertility are a memory they would rather not relive.  But for me, well, I just get plain excited about the miracles God will do in growing their families and in changing their lives.

My first recommendation is always, ALWAYS, start keeping a gratitude journal.  

Start small.  

And every day, add to it.  

One day, you'll look back and see the heart of a loving Father.  That journal will show you, in a million little ways, the heart of God.  You won't be the same.  Your family won't be the same.  Motherhood won't be the same.  

She's in that place where she's not sure she is willing to trust that.  Because, really, can't I just have the baby and be grateful later?  Which I completely get.  But that little exercise of gratitude?  At the end of your journey, you'll want more of The Father.  

He's always the real reward.

But while I adore walking with infertiles and watching God grow their families, I have this one area of my prayer life for which I cannot seem to get answers.

You remember Paul saying he had a "thorn in his flesh" and although he had prayed for the Lord to remove it, the thorn had remained.  With God reminding him, "my grace is sufficient for you."

This area is my "thorn."  

For the life of me, I cannot understand why God has not moved in this area.  Why miracles have not occurred.  Why I cannot see Him anywhere in, around, near this situation.  Instead, I see pain and anger and bitterness and resentment and unforgiveness and fear.  

God has certainly given me direction on how to pray in this area and I'm being faithful, mostly, to that.  But there are some days when my humanness gets in the way and I'm not all that..."willing to accept guidance" as I am on other days.  

As we were discussing this again this week, I told Chris, this thing, THIS, is the thorn in my flesh.  

If ever there were a time when I need to simply continue knocking on the judge's door so I can plead my case, this is it. Perseverance.  It's a big deal.  And it's wearing me out.  

So on one hand, I get to see oh so many miracles in the lives of these precious infertile women and on the other, I have seen little to no fruit in this other area.  

Maybe that's why God keeps providing me women to pray with.  Because it continues to build my faith.  While the other situation keeps me humble.  I have to trust God even when I feel like He might have dropped a ball somewhere along the way.  I mean, He's busy.  Maybe He missed this.

But I know that's not true.  

Because my own miracle daughter has the sweetest heart ever and I know we had ZERO to do with that.  

Because my own infertility journey showed me how involved the Great I AM is in the minute details of our lives.  Including things we often don't give Him credit for orchestrating.  Like sperm and too much estrogen.  

Because I know even when those thorns in our lives prick us and leave us sore and bleeding, He is still God.  The God I met through those millions little ways in gratitude.  Full of love and faithfulness and power and kindness and sorrow for us in those sores.  

Lord, thank you for all the miracles, big and small, blonde and red-haired, boys and girls, you have granted me the privilege of witnessing.  And thank you for the work You WILL DO in the other area. I know it hasn't escaped you and you didn't turn your back on it.  So I will wait on You.  Wait with anticipation and joy and humility and gratitude.  When the miracle comes, it will be amazing.  I believe that.

So what about you?  Do you have a thorn in your flesh?  

And if you have any free prayers tonight, think fondly of my neck and shoulder.