My cat Ginger has been missing since Sunday night. We've looked all over our neighborhood and others, put out flyers, and prayed. I'm trying really hard not to lose faith and get angry that God hasn't answered my simple prayer to bring a fluffy orange cat back to her home. Somehow I manage to keep believing that He loves me and even cares about my cat. But it's not easy for me.
I crumble too easily; panic when God doesn't answer my prayers right away. I tell Him He doesn't really love me and obviously doesn't care about the little stuff. Ask Him why He can't do this simple thing for me. I miss my cat. I want her back home safe and sound. I don't want to count my other blessings because I don't want to be happy and forget that I'm sad that she hasn't come home yet. This is real.
The way I see it, I have two options.
One, I can give up, get angry at God, my "secret weapon" for all things difficult. I can cry and mope and tell myself God is a cruel, heartless master who doesn't care about the little things.
Or two, I can resist Satan's tactic to temp me into cursing God, destroying my faith, and doubting the power of prayer. He knows what little things pull on my heart strings the most. And boy, is he yanking away.
I'm fighting for option 2.
I keep reading encouraging scriptures, humbly praying, and doing whatever I can physically to search for her.
I guess you could say I'm being tested. The last time I really felt tested was when the anatomy ultrasound found a cyst on Corbin's brain. I'm sure there are a handful of other traumatic events I no longer recall since they all have turned out perfectly in my favor. No, I'm not saying everything I've prayed for has come to past. I've had my share of heartaches, failures, and disappointments. But I'm still here, and I'm still alive, and I still have faith.
And I'm still praying for my Ginger to come home.
“We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties.” ~ Oswald Chambers
No comments:
Post a Comment