I have a large family – a very large family. I have five children, three stepchildren. Those children have given me eighteen grandchildren, nine step-grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren. Add to that my siblings, nieces, nephews, in-laws, cousins, aunts and uncles. You get the picture.
Out of that vast number, 80-90% are normal, ordinary, average dysfunctional (we ALL have dysfunction to some extent – it’s what makes us human). Unfortunately, it is the 10-15% – those who are screwed up, messed up, mentally unbalanced, selfish and self-centered – who exhaust our emotions, drain our well-being, rob us of our peace and joy, and consume our thoughts.
Out of my five children, my son has broken my heart repeatedly. He is a broken individual who has never completely surrendered to the Lord. He thinks he has been 100% sold out to the Lord in the past, but there was always a part of him – a dark, haunted, wounded place – that he withheld.
It has been another heart-wrenching, devastating week for my family with my son.
Most of the fiction I write is based on personal life experiences – mostly mine, or those I know and love. I’m sure these experiences with my son the past several months will be fodder for writing at some point in my life.
Although I thank God for the lessons I’ve learned, the experience of the depth of His mercy and grace that I’ve tasted, because of circumstances I have faced in life, I would gladly forgo some of that to not have suffered some things.
It is daily trusting in God’s sustaining providence. He is my portion, my reward, my hope, my strength, my all. He has to be, or I will not survive.
Because He is, I am! His grace is sufficient. His mercy never fails and endures forever. That’s scriptural.