Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Isn't that just like God?
Over the last two years, we've struggled with our finances because I lost my job shortly after the 9-11 tragedies and haven't been able to get a job that pays even half what I made before. Since then, I've worked at Starbucks (has to be my all-time favorite), for an attorney (I had the WORST boss) and for myself (I have the BEST boss). I'm happy doing what I'm doing now (computer technical support), but I don't know if I can wing it financially in the long run. It's about a third or less of my previous full-time managerial salary.
As I sit down to do an accounting of what we owe and whom we owe, I become overwhelmed with the enormity of the task. I ask for Michael's support (emotionally, spiritually, physically), and he is there. All he gives me are words of encouragement and says things like, "even if we have to live under a rock somewhere, as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine." Or, "even if we're in debtor's prison, at least we'll be together."
Isn't that just like God?
Today, I got a call from my surgeon's office. I didn't actually talk to him... just his "lackey." She said that Dr. P. saw something. Something? What? A mouse? A Mercedes? A paperclip? All she could tell me was that it said "probable adhesions." I've had that before... it means surgery. See... I had gastric bypass three years ago. I'm thrilled with my results -- I've lost over 100 pounds. But since then, I've had 2 more surgeries. One to remove my gallbladder... no big deal. And one to relieve the massive pain I was having which was caused by adhesions. Michael was there for every minute of that ordeal. And now what does Michael do? He put his arms around me while I sobbed after hanging up the phone. He said, "we'll get through this... we always do. You're gonna be fine. I love you."
Isn't that just like God?
They're scheduling yet another test... an upper GI where they make me swallow liquid thicker than cement. It will take all day long because it takes so long for the cement to set up and take up residence in my innards. I'm not looking forward to that test... not one bit. I'm definitely not looking forward to the surgery that I KNOW he's going to want to do to fix it. But Michael calms me down and says, "Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet. I'll be there. I'll be with you. It's gonna be fine."
Isn't that just like God?
Ever pull out those baby name books to see what names mean? Check out Michael
Michael: Who is like unto God.
(or, my translation... Isn't that just like God?)
Over the last two years, we've struggled with our finances because I lost my job shortly after the 9-11 tragedies and haven't been able to get a job that pays even half what I made before. Since then, I've worked at Starbucks (has to be my all-time favorite), for an attorney (I had the WORST boss) and for myself (I have the BEST boss). I'm happy doing what I'm doing now (computer technical support), but I don't know if I can wing it financially in the long run. It's about a third or less of my previous full-time managerial salary.
As I sit down to do an accounting of what we owe and whom we owe, I become overwhelmed with the enormity of the task. I ask for Michael's support (emotionally, spiritually, physically), and he is there. All he gives me are words of encouragement and says things like, "even if we have to live under a rock somewhere, as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine." Or, "even if we're in debtor's prison, at least we'll be together."
Isn't that just like God?
Today, I got a call from my surgeon's office. I didn't actually talk to him... just his "lackey." She said that Dr. P. saw something. Something? What? A mouse? A Mercedes? A paperclip? All she could tell me was that it said "probable adhesions." I've had that before... it means surgery. See... I had gastric bypass three years ago. I'm thrilled with my results -- I've lost over 100 pounds. But since then, I've had 2 more surgeries. One to remove my gallbladder... no big deal. And one to relieve the massive pain I was having which was caused by adhesions. Michael was there for every minute of that ordeal. And now what does Michael do? He put his arms around me while I sobbed after hanging up the phone. He said, "we'll get through this... we always do. You're gonna be fine. I love you."
Isn't that just like God?
They're scheduling yet another test... an upper GI where they make me swallow liquid thicker than cement. It will take all day long because it takes so long for the cement to set up and take up residence in my innards. I'm not looking forward to that test... not one bit. I'm definitely not looking forward to the surgery that I KNOW he's going to want to do to fix it. But Michael calms me down and says, "Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet. I'll be there. I'll be with you. It's gonna be fine."
Isn't that just like God?
Ever pull out those baby name books to see what names mean? Check out Michael
Michael: Who is like unto God.
(or, my translation... Isn't that just like God?)
