February 2016

Time slowly passes and a lot of days I feel like my heart is going to explode. 

Lord, How can this be? What is going on? Where are the people who are making these decisions? How can this be the church that you speak of Lord? Why? Why? Why now? Why this way? Why the fear? Why the shutting out? Lord....where are you? Are you near?

The days are filled with tears. 

But on Sunday...on that day, even driving there, we feel you Lord. We feel pain, but we still feel you.

Tears still fall. 

Lord, I want my kids to see us following you....I hate that they see the ugliness. At the end I want to be able to show them the beautiful picture you have painted - the faithfulness of you lavishly loving us and guiding us through the darkness.

Down in the valley, when waters rise
I'm still believing 

Hope is alive

All through the struggle and darkest day 

I'll remember the empty grave

Thank you for healing that comes from sitting in a row of chairs on a Sunday night while my kids play video games at my feet and my husband-well, he rests and heals and you tend to his broken heart all the while the worship music plays and Louie preaches about Jesus.  Thank you just won't ever be enough.


And Lord...my girls....my sweet chicks. What will become of them? Although you have allowed this to sift through your hands, and you have a plan for us, please God, please...have a plan for my chicks. Take care of them. And their mommas.

More of you God. Less of everything else.

2/8/16, Louie Giglio: Pain and risk have been the greatest catalysts to grow our faith.

Thankful for nights at the Grove with other women who have loved and poured into my family. Their support means the world to me.

-Karen

Your Will Lord, not ours.