Sitting. Waiting. Wondering.

My life seemed to be going along fine. Good job. Good friends. Nice house. Faithful Kitty. New IPod.

Funny how one little penny on the railroad tracks can derail everything. Maybe it wasn't a dime. Maybe it was a quarter here and a nickel there. I won't go on about all my friends leaving me as I did in my last posting; except to add one to the list: my best friend (perceived?), S.R. It blindsided me. I just wasn't expecting it. It wasn't his leaving that upset me so, though it probably should have. It was the fact that he didn't tell me--one sunny Friday afternoon he announced it to our department with two weeks notice and then he's off to find himself in California.

And there I sat. Crying. Silent, but unable to stop the tears in front of the 11 other people in the meeting, dying for it to end so I could run somewhere and scream. Which I did. I drove to my house, didn't quite make it to my bed before I hit the floor screaming at God that I couldn't possibly take another hit. That had to be my breaking point--didn't it? Apparently not.

So, after confronting him via e-mail (too emotional to talk face-to-face), I waited for the reply to come on Monday morning. When it did, I found out how little my friendship really meant to him. It's a very sad and humbling thing to realize how badly I had misjudged our friendship.

So, it's still Monday and I'm already feeling like I've been punched in the stomach by Ali in his glory days, and that night I receive a call from my older brother, Mark. He's on his way to Dad's house. Dad doesn't think he'll make it through the week. So I try to forget the one devastating blow in order to gear up for the next punch. I trade in the last of my miles (goodbye, Hawaii) for a ticket home, call the doc to renew my "happy pill" prescription and drive myself to the airport bright and early on Friday morning.

So here I sit. Waiting. Wondering. Watching life slip away. Trying desperately to not embrace my old best friend: self-pity. Trying to figure out where to go from here. I will entirely miss S.R.'s last week of work, but I know it's probably for the best. I do wish him well, just wish we could have ended a little better.

But S.R.'s just a blip on the screen; a commercial for anti-depressants. Now it's back to reality TV as I sit in the local public library and pour out my heart to this inanimate object. It's not super compassionate; but it's definitely not condemning which is sometimes a little more important. Objectivity. New perspective. Obviously God is up to something. So it's time to speak and believe the truth:

Jehovah Jirah, my Provider, the God Who sees what is to come and has everything provided for--He is my Rock. He has a plan. I can rest in Him. His Name is a strong tower - the righteous run into it and they are saved.

He has not forgotten me. He has me engraved on His palm. He also has my dad engraved there.

What I'm sowing now in tears, I will someday reap in joy.

I will make my plans; He will direct my steps (oh, Please, Merciful God! Direct every one of them!!)

He ALONE is my salvation. Not any person here on earth.

The truth does set us free. It does give us hope. It does get us through the tough spots.

It will see me through this. I am convinced.