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Life’s Pains and Disappointments

I wonder if feeling life’s pain and disappointments really do make you stronger.

As I lie here thinking when I should be sleeping I fear that strengthening may be the farthest thing from what really happens life. For the women who read this, think about nail polish. I know, out there a little bit, but go with it. When you put that base coat on your fingernails, it’s not very stable and there’s not much substance to it. The color layer is added now, and bonds to the top coat making it much stronger and more able to withstand the rigors of life. (Typing, tapping, driving, digging through purses, dishes, etc., etc., etc.) But then you add a top coat to that to make it even more resistant to chipping.

I don’t know if any of you are like me, but I’ve done the quick and dirty method of touching up a manicure/pedicure by just adding another layer to the top, or filling in on the bottoms to make it look better. Have you noticed though that the more you pile on there, the worse it looks and eventually darn it – it starts to peel and it looks HORRIBLE.

I think that life is a little like that in regards to pain and disappointment. I think the first one lays the foundation for being strong. The second makes you even stronger, and the third…well I’m sure you are catching my drift here. Unfortunately the continued pain and disappointment will start to look like a manicure gone bad. It’s going to make you miserable, ugly, and flaky! (Hey, I resemble that comment!)

I wonder often where my God is in all of this. I actually yelled at him the other night. I told him I wasn’t ready to have another disappointment. I thought I had been through enough. I can list things off that would make the normal person cringe, but I don’t. I preserve because I know that He is supposed to be there for me. I yelled the other night, and told Him I didn’t want to hear any BS about walking beside me in the sand. I didn’t feel like I was in sand, I felt like I was trudging through the swamplands and my books were getting caught. I wanted to know when my time was. I wanted to know when something good was going to happen to me, for me.

I didn’t get answers that night. I’m quite sure I won’t get answers until judgment day, and even then only if he deems it necessary. I hate not knowing, not being able to control something in my life, and He knows it. I take comfort in knowing that I can question Him. I can yell at him, and he understands. Even Jesus wanted to know why God had forsaken Him. If the Son of God is able to question the Father, then I think he will take a question from me as well.

I just have to wait for my answers, patiently. Which is something I do not do well.

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