I’ve prayed. Cried. Confessed to my husband (telling him that story was horrifying). Been angry.
And now I’m done.
Because here’s what I’ve figure out–okay, actually, God told me and I just listened. Which I don’t normally do, but this was something I had to listen to. Or things were going to get ugly. Because I had fantasies of killing people. Or going to jail in a blaze of glory a la Lorena Bobbit. I’m serious.
Conclusion: people are messed up. But I already knew that. It just overwhelmed me when it involved my children. And this is the first time I’ve actually wished God would just come back so we could just stop all this madness. I know as a Christian I’m supposed to long for God to come back and want it immediately. And I do, in theory. And I understand that heaven will be a million gazillion times better than earth, but I still think selfish things about wanting to see my kids grow up or wanting to retire and travel (because that sounds fun!) or a hundred other things that I have on my to-do list. And I know that is short-sighted and naive. But it’s the truth.
Then this weekend happened and I actually prayed and longed for heaven. Where there wouldn’t be hurting and pain and guilt and my babies would be safe. Because no matter how much I try, I can’t keep them 100% safe. Only God can. And that’s a little power struggle the two of us are having because I can’t imagine anyone loving them more than I do. But He does.
So I will continue to blog. I changed some settings to make things safer (thanks for the tip, Kate!). I will never post a picture without looking at it twice (and then a third time, just in case). I will not let people I don’t know infiltrate my thoughts and consume me like they did this weekend. I will be safer, smarter, and more aware, but not quit.
And I have some peace. Which reminds me of Phillipians 4:7 (from a song my mom used to sing when I was little), “Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.” That’s where I’m at right now.