If you asked me, I would say God cares about little things.  Go ahead and pray for a parking space, or green lights, or for your favorite fruit to be on sale.  Whatever.  God cares about that stuff, I would say.  And I really do believe that.

But I don’t believe it for me.

You see, all my little prayers backfire.  I asked the Lord for two good hair days for my entire lifetime – not a difficulty for the Almighty – and neither panned out.  I asked Him for good weather on my wedding day, and got rain (in the middle of the worst drought in 50 years, I might add).  I asked Him for a good bluebonnet crop around the time I got married – you know, for bridal portraits.  I got the worst drought in 50 years, with approximately 3 bluebonnets spread across the great state of Texas and indoor bridal portraits.  I ask Him to please, please not let my foot hurt, at least until after I finish the marathon, and I get excruciating pain.  I ask Him to help find an important item that has gone missing – and get nothing.  I mean, I still believe He COULD do those things.  I just don’t think He will, don’t think He wants to.  As far as I can see, God is pretty uninterested in these small things that mean so much to me at the time.

I had a pretty bad day today – nothing major, just me not being who I ought to.  And I really, really wanted to talk to my friend Kimi.  She lives in South America right now so I don’t get to talk to her all that often; mostly we chat on Facebook.  I logged in with only faint hope I would see her there and sure enough, nothing.  I didn’t even bother to ask God for that – what was the use?  I worked on something else in a different tab for a few minutes and when I went back to Facebook there was a chat window from Kimi.

And I can’t tell you how happy that made me.  I needed to talk to someone who has literally been where I am and lived to tell about it, and also someone who knows I’m not always a horrible person.  And she told me I’m not crazy, that she struggled too.  And while that doesn’t make it ok for me to have a bad attitude, it is strangely encouraging to know I am at least not the worst person in the world, that at least someone out there can give me a run for my money.  It is comforting, stabilizing to peel back the facade a bit, point out something and say, “Look – this part of me is really ugly” and be met with with grace and love, just the same as if the facade was real.

So – thanks, Lord.

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