Answered Prayers

A question came up last night at church. "Who here has had all their prayers answered?" I raised my hand and let the asker know that all my prayers had indeed been answered. He asked me, "Are you sure?" I nodded my head. Yes, my prayers have been answered. God may not have answered them my way, on my terms; but He has answered my prayers. Admittedly, God's answers are much better than anything I could ever ask for or want.

God will not ignore His children. When we speak to God, He answers. Communication is an important aspect of any intimate relationship. God willingly communicates with His children.

When God seems silent, He's not ignoring the prayers. Perhaps He's giving the pray-er a chance to examine the request and ask a more appropriate question. Have you ever thought that perhaps you were asking the wrong question? When I pray, sometimes I'll get caught up in my "laundry list" of requests. I have to ask myself, "Do I really want what I claim to want? Or, do I want what God wants?" If I really want what I want, I am limiting how God can bless me.

I realized a little while ago that what I really want is God's best for my family and me. I'm only human and to put human limitations on God is asking for heartache in the end. My prayers became more honest after that. "Here's the way I see it, God. [Spill out my 'laundry list'.] More than that, please do what You see fit. I know You have our best interest in mind, and I'm seeking Your best, Lord."

Have all my prayers been answered? Absolutely! In better ways than I could have ever imagined.

Blessings,
the PTSD Widow

I saw the old playhouse this weekend. It was old and torn up, but the memories were as fresh as the paint on the trailer my father had up on the lifts.

That little playhouse was our drive-through fast-food joint. It was the place in which we spent summer nights and played with friends. It was the house we cleaned and rearranged to accommodate our "club" meetings. That little house was the most beautiful place I remember.

Our friends had the latest and greatest dollhouses; Sister and I had a real life-sized dollhouse. We even brought electricity into the house via an extension cord so we could play our cassette tapes. We had picnics on the porch and brought the first wireless phone out there so we'd never miss a thing. We had a place where we had to use our imaginations and have fun.

I'm one of the blessed ones. I can remember things from my childhood. I can remember a lot of things. My husband is unable to recall many things because of PTSD. Of course he and I grew up in opposite areas of the country; but, since the diagnoses of PTSD and TBI he has little recall of childhood memories.

My guess is that my husband's memory is a lot like that old playhouse. At one time, he had all kinds of pleasant memories. Now it's all torn up and dilapidated. Sometimes I wish I could give my husband back some memories--but I know that is impossible. What I can do is help him make pleasant memories with our children. That way the boys will one day look back and fondly remember--even if their daddy can't.

Blessings for you all today,
the PTSD Widow

Faith and Angel Cheeks

A few years ago one of my students gave me a figurine of an angel. This cute little angel is holding onto a wire with the word "faith" hanging from it. Although it must be picked up and turned to see, the angel is seated with its bare rear end exposed. It's called Angel Cheeks. Whenever I need a smile, I look at this angel.

Today, I'm looking at it from an entirely different perspective. Absolutely, there are memories associated with this figurine; however, today I'm looking at how it's hanging onto faith even though it's got parts that are exposed.

There have been times in my life where my faith seems so far away it seems I'm hanging on to it by a wire. Other times my faith is so great and near it seems that I've got it closest to my heart. Faith can be such a generic word. I'm glad I know that my faith is in Christ alone. I never want to have to hang on to faith by a thread, but sometimes a thread is all I've got.

Lord Jesus, help me in the seasons of my life where my faith is not strong enough and some of the personal parts are exposed. Help me when I feel vulnerable. Thank you for never leaving me even when I'm the one who has moved. You see all of me--the quiet and dark places in my heart and mind are exposed in the light of your love, and yet you love me. Your unchanging grace and mercy is so undeserved, and I am so very thankful. I'm thankful that You are the God who SAVES me. I love you, Lord Jesus.

More Thoughts

Ahhh! The quiet of a Saturday morning is refreshing. Alone time in a house filled with activity during so much of the day is nice. I'm sitting at the computer reflecting on God's goodness on this anniversary of three life-changing events.

It's been five years since my uncle passed away and nine or ten years since the World Trade Center was destroyed by terrorists. It's been that long since life as I knew it was changed by a diagnosis of PTSD and a forced medical retirement from the military. So many events have happened since then, I don't even know where to begin. The only thing I can say is that I learned (and am still learning) valuable life lessons during this season.

Thoughts...

It occurred to me just a few minutes ago that I used to love to keep house and do things that would make my husband smile. I kept an immaculate house and always had groceries in the house. I was organized and happy. That was then...

I wish I could go back in time. My kids were happy, I was happy. I want to do what's right for my kids. All I can do is pray for them, because I want them to have a better wife than I am to their father.