The waste of space I was not meant to be.

Outside the inn where we're staying there is a great big yard. The kind of yard a kid can get excited about, daydream about in math class and plan fully involved cowboy and space monkey battles of epic proportions in. But there are no children here. No homes, no families, no schools. In the yard stands a lone giant gazebo with a miniature stage, two picnic tables, 8 benches, and two outdoor grills, the sort you have to chip the rust off of before using. But there are no large jolly gatherings, no neighborhood parties here. Instead of the delicious scent of burgers and beef franks I smell ash and cigarettes because this is the place the inn staff come to smoke and gossip about us messy guests. Across the narrow unlined street is a tennis court, a volleyball net, and four square blocks. There is no equipment, just the tease of opportunity. I've looked for the place where they keep the rackets hoping to go out and fulfill the hopes and dreams of those empty painted squares, but alas it seems they are meant to stay in exile across the street. I can't help but pity this place, in all its wasted glory, hidden away from the children, the families who dream of its existence without knowing its been here all along, dreaming of them. I come sit in the gazebo, a different bench every day, just to give it what it craves, the satisfaction of being used.

This place is exactly who we are, built for a purpose, but lacking the courage or even perhaps the intelligence to be put to use. I can play an instrument, not just any instrument but a rare and beautiful one. I can cook delicious meals. I read very well and aloud, something my Mama taught me. These aren't statements of self importance but of shame. God gave me these incredible gifts but rarely do I use them for his glory. I play music for my pleasure, I cook great big meals for my own taste, and I read every day for my own entertainment. If your father gave you a sparkling candy apple red, top of the line, world class huffy racing bike would you hide it deep in the garage and only sneak it out in the dead of night to polish and ride in little circles in the driveway? No, me either. So why are we so selfish with the gifts our heavenly father gave us?

There is an audience for every talent God has ever created, a need for every skill. There are people in nursing homes, children's homes, our neighbors homes that have needs God has created us to fill.

Hello from "Wit's End"

Here I am God! Driving home from a baby shower wondering why I'm not happier, why chubby rosy cheeks, dimples, and blue frosted cupcakes didn't put me in a sunny mood. I stop at the grocery store to cheer myself up the nutritional way, because chocolate comes in a high fiber variety you know, and even that didn't work. I pick up my phone and dial my sister without really deciding to, but she doesn't answer and that only makes me feel worse.

Here I am God! Frustrated and hurting, I turn on my radio just for the noise, just to distract my ears away from my own thoughts. A song I know well is playing and I sing along:

"I believe always, always, the Savior never fails. Even when all hope is gone, God knows your pain, and His promise remains, He will be with you."

It was suddenly a dramatic ride as I broke down and sobbed and let God speak to me. I sobbed for the addict in my life, the unsaved loved ones I carry around in my heart like stones, for the marriage that's failing, for the people I love but cannot be near, for the things I'm missing out on, and for the mistakes I've made. I sobbed to my God, my Father and I was comforted.

I've heard that song a hundred times, but those words have never meant very much to me until today, until socializing, junk food, and family failed me, and I accidentally turned to God for comfort. Was that planned? Has he been trying to reach me all day? Did He huff and puff and sigh and groan when I ignored Him and reached for method after method to take His place, like I would have? I was brought low by a single verse of a single song, imagine what God could do in my life if I let him in more often.

God is so good to me.
God is so good to me.
God is so good to me.

My life didn't change in the car today. My trials were here waiting for me like a faithful dog when I got home. But today God reached down to hold me when I needed it most, without grumbling about being my last choice, He loved me. He renewed my hope and demonstrated His power over even the smallest details of my life when I will just invite Him in. What a perfect, patient, and loving God we serve. I love Him.