Yesterday's post was all about whining. Or, worst yet, wallowing in "poor me," which is a total lack of faith. I was brought up short by a very loving and caring comment posted by Becky, one of my first friends in Blogland. She left a comment on my Art Benches post, because, oddly enough yesterday's post had the "comments" turned off. I swear, I didn't consciously do that -- but, I was feeling very much like writing and running, so I'm glad Becky caught up with me.
One of the things I love about blogging, and that came as such a surprise to me, is the number of people I've met who are able to witness their strong faith in God. I admire that, and am drawn to those blogs where faith is so much a part of people's lives, that witnessing in their blog is as natural as breathing.
My faith has always been a big part of my life -- well, sometimes not so big, but God has always been there for me. I am a Catholic. It's only been in the last 20 years that we've been told it's okay to sing really loud in church, and in the last ten years that we hold hands during the Our Father. Some of us are still rather stoic in our worship.
The interesting thing about yesterday, is that after I posted, I read a chapter from Joanna Weaver's Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World. It was all about this lack of faith that I was feeling yesterday. The chapter is called, "Lord, don't you care?" and she talks about the 'three deadly Ds'. How distraction from God, leads to discouragement which leads to doubt. I shoulda read the book, before I wrote the post, but you know what? That's what blogging can be all about. I pour out the yucky stuff sometimes, and I get wonderful, heartfelt comments from a friend, who also put me on to another author in Beth Moore.
When I started blogging, it didn't occur to me that God would slip into it and use it as a tool for me to know him better, and to keep nudging me to keep him front and center in my life. It is not by accident that my blogging friends are such God-filled women. I seek them out and I want to learn from them. And when they respond with such heartfelt thoughts and caring, I know I'm in the right place.
One more thought, before my family yells at me one more time that it's time to leave. I wish I could remember the exact quote and reference, but it goes something like this: A sign of true character is being the same person with everyone you meet. I find myself meditating on that a lot lately. I'm tired and weary of hiding my light under a bushel basket. Perhaps that is where some of my frustration has been. More on that later. I hear car doors slamming and they're going to leave me behind!