Tag Archives: apathy



My son burns my arms with fever, almost silently gasping for breath, and dark, yellowish rings form under his eyes right before mine. No one does anything. The crowded restaurant we’re in continues its constant motion. I see a friend with her son who was healed not long ago and shout her name. Again, I shout, holding my son, stripping his shirt off to alleviate some heat. She doesn’t hear me. She continues to talk cheerfully with friends and I lose her in the crowd as we leave the chaotic eatery. We’re headed to the ER but I fear not fast enough. I wake up, unable to catch my breath. This night’s sleep has been exhausting. I truly wonder if I had stayed up if I’d be more rested. Images flash through my mind, as I sit up panting. Visuals of my family distraught and distressed beyond repair. Shaken. Jolted to our very core. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a nightmare. I don’t know what you believe, but I believe it to be part of my own personal spiritual battle. I’m in a battle as I type. A battle where I learn to trust God with everything. Even my son. In Ephesians, we read that the battle is not physical and some days I’m glad. Glad because I feel very weak under this attack. God knows I need Him more than ever on those days. To make a long, prayerful story a little shorter, we decided yesterday to cancel our son’s appointment with the doctor. It seems he’s been sick since he was born. In fact, he was born sick. The enemy reminds me of this often. “It’s just the way it is,” I hear, and “What could possibly change your son’s condition? You’ve done everything.” It’s true. We have tried everything from oils to vitamins to supplements, even prayer. *wink It’s exhausting to have little ones ill as you struggle to fix it. I believe that’s why God is calling us out on it. We prayed about taking our son to the doctor…again…for the fourth time just within the past 3 months. The meds they gave us didn’t work and the meds they were going to give us most likely would have the same effect. This time, we felt more peace about trusting God to work it out. I wish I could say that about every situation and I’m getting there, but trusting someone else with your kids is HUGE. Turns out He loves ‘em more than I do. Whaaaaaa?

So just like I was jolted out of that horrific, stomach-turning nightmare, I think God is jolting us out of this lull of worldliness. This life is not our own. We are not to love this world. We are called to love the people He created and put in it. Stop doing what the world does. Stop trusting what your eyes see. Let God open the eyes of your heart like He yearns to do. Have some faith and start walking the path He puts before you instead of the one you paved on your own. Give God each day and He’ll jolt you out of this shoulder-shrugging apathy that we’re so accustomed to. Infuse your life with His will and watch as your situation changes for the best.

My son was happier than we’d seen him in a long time after we canceled that appointment. His symptoms came to a screeching halt. Sure, it doesn’t always work like this, but when’s the last time you trusted enough to see how long God’s timing would take? Don’t let the enemy of your soul steal your faith or the faith-building “exercises” God Himself designs.

5-Year Plan


As I robotically meander through the kitchen with a partially-wet paper towel stuck to my barefoot, I have to reflect on how much my life has changed. Not only because I’m an ecstatically-happy married woman and mother of two, but also because of where I’ve been and what God has held my hand through. Those who knew me in the past have got to be wondering, “What’s going on with her?” And let’s be clear, “my past” was no more than 5 years ago.
I literally quit drinking a 12-pack or more a night 4 years ago this month. I was in such a horribly dark, ugly place with no one to talk to, I thought, and even worse, didn’t care so much that I didn’t have anyone. I simply didn’t care anymore. I got up, went to work, stopped off at the liquor store or my favorite gas station on the way home, gave them my cash (so my husband wouldn’t see exactly how much was disappearing from his hardearned paycheck) and made the trek home, sometimes cracking one open on the way. (It was literally a 3 minute trip home.)
I would proceed to clean house, cook, gab on the phone, even read, while drinking. I would start dinner, only to finally eat it hours later, after the 12-or 18-pack was gone.
A lot of the friends I had disappeared and I have yet to hear from them since I stopped. After all, what do you do if you don’t get together and go out to the “hottest clubs”? It’s a heart-breaking thing to lose people you truly love because you no longer participate in certain activities. I remember letting one “true friend” in, the one I thought would understand as she had been there herself, then sadly returned after counseling. She said, almost mechanically, “I had no idea that it was a problem for you.” Her almost-numb reaction surprised me but I’m a grrrreat hider! I think we all are, if you want my honest opinion. We all have things we keep tucked way down so no one, not even the people who are supposed to know us best, knows. I didn’t hear from this friend again for years and to this day we still don’t speak unless we are face to face, which isn’t often. This one act, cut me to the core and I felt so alone. I didn’t have anybody I could turn to. My parents had no idea my alcohol consumption was as bad as it was, and my husband (God bless my dear, sweet, prayin-man-of-a-husband), even though he saw what I tried so desperately to hide, feelings as well as aluminum cans, he was at a loss as well. I don’t think it was any coincidence however, that hordes of helpers didn’t show up miraculously floating on clouds to smack the cans out of my quivering hands. Be it the work of God or the enemy, it was an issue I had to tackle, not we, as a collaborative group, needed to face.
Today I pray for those who know as well as those who may not know yet what keeps them from being the individual God wants them to be.
Oh, and that paper towel? It “unstuck” itself the second I decided to lift my foot to remove it, so I had to bend over to get it.