It was a conversation in my cubicle more than a decade ago, but my friend’s words remain seared in my mind: “You know, I think God loves strugglers.”
You know? I see it.
It was a conversation in my cubicle more than a decade ago, but my friend’s words remain seared in my mind: “You know, I think God loves strugglers.”
You know? I see it.
As an author and voracious devourer of fiction, I consistently get a kick out of the comedy Stranger than Fiction (2006), with Will Farrell and Emma Thompson.
Will Farrell’s character, IRS agent Harold Crick, begins to hear a narrator’s voice over his life–a narrator who has power to determine his circumstances. And who indicates he’s going to die.
Harold seeks a literature professor’s advice (Dustin Hoffman), who suggests he start to find his author by determining whether he’s in a comedy or a tragedy.
I woke early on Easter morning. It was not the kind of, “Oh! I get, like, an hour more of sleep! I love this feeling!” But more, “Hey, there is absolutely no one else up! Listen. Hear that? It’s the sound of NOTHING. I think I will wake up and enjoy it.” This was before I knew the kids drank the last of the milk = no coffee for me.
Maybe because the light in our bedroom felt hopeful and springtime-ish–and because I wanted to make the most of this day–I thought of the light in the garden, that morning Jesus rose. Yes. I am totally #thatmom.
Today I’m writing for those of you who identify with Thomas more than Peter. Who peer at the Bible with head cocked, your mouth a line of thoughtfulness. Who tend to uncover more questions than answers in your faith. Whose pain has resulted in a series of unsteady steps backward, confused but holding on.
I’m writing to the strugglers.
© 2024 THE AWKWARD MOM
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑