Westwoods

I remember the first time Matthew chapter six caught my attention. We were confined, our family of five, in our small Macgregor 26' sailboat in a rainy bay in Florida waters. We were anchored somewhere on the northwest side of the peninsula, suffering through a torrential downpour, the dampness of our bodies within a tiny space, filling the cabin with not so pleasant odors and temperaments. We had worn out the games, puzzles, and drawing/artwork supplies, now having moved on to reading and writing in our journals. At least that's what I was doing. It felt funny and wrong to open my Bible to Matthew 6 and see the words of Jesus admonishing to not do the good and right things in life for approval or recognition. Because that's what I was doing. I was trying to be a good mom. I was just trying to get something right in this family memory gone wrong. I wanted my kids to notice that I was trying to make good food and for my husband to notice how brave and strong of spirit I was ...

  It's ten p.m. I should go to bed. But its cold and unfriendly the past eight nights. My bed, that is. I haven't quite caved but have thought of going to Bruce's closet and smelling one of his shirts or sweaters. Instead I look at his empty shoes and glance at the lifeless pieces of fabric hanging on their hangers.  When He started talking about his desire to be a travel nurse my first instinct was to panic and be smitten with fear and disappointment. Because why had I taught four years while he did college for hopes of better tomorrows of time spent together? I was scared and angry combined. And I did struggle not to panic. OK. I did panic off and on. But having just come home from a week of counselling with wise words of what I needed to do instead of panic when I didn't understand and/or was disappointed, I knew I was given this challenge for a purpose. I was told to God-focus. No more ME focus. Go to my safe place(our dock)and tell God every disgusting detail about...