Rachel Hauck's Blog, page 7

“You’re Not Crazy, You’re Super Menopausal.”

It’s Been A Year Part II

…. When we were last on this blog…

I was struggling to write How To Catch A Prince (Starred review from Library Journal)

After the initial crash and burn in the bathroom, I rested during the weekend and sort of rebounded during the week.

I was feeling good for the most part, getting writing done.

I concluded the incident in the bathroom was just me being tired and the panic attack from the pit of hell.

You can disagree with me but when “it” left as my husband prayed over me, I pretty much knew that sucker was demonic!

I heard: “You don’t have enough time.”

Sounds like the accuser of the brethren, doesn’t it?

In my weakened physical state it was a horrid combination.

And the enemy never fights fair.

Anyway…

Somewhere during the first week, I started feeling weird again.

At night, I’d start to shake. Then stress.

“What if I can’t get it done?”

“I’m supposed to go to the sales conference but I don’t want to travel.”

The trembling and anxiety increased as did the stress.

I couldn’t get out of it easily.

My schedule had no “gives” in it and I just didn’t see my way clear to get it all done.

Worse, I didn’t “feel” like getting it done.

I think it was during the second week of this ordeal, Hubby was gone one evening, and I thought I’d do some writing after dinner.

But I couldn’t think.

I was weary, drained, a creative desert.

I can’t even explain how I felt but it was desperation topped with hopeless.

Even the idea of quitting brought no relief.

I prayed, believed, and prayed again.

The book, the story, was all jumbled in my head.

So I called my writing partner, the amazing Susan May Warren.

“Help! I can’t do this… I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She was cooking dinner for her busy household yet without hesitation or pause, she put everything on hold to help me brainstorm the romantic plot.

I’d set up a difficult situation between my hero and heroine.

“No wonder this is hard,” she said, in her comforting way.

We talked and brainstormed for an hour and finally I had some relief.

But when I’d go to bed, I’d fall asleep for a few minutes, maybe a half hour, and wake up, heart racing, thoughts jumbled, doubting myself.

Feeling yucky.

I’d move around the house trying to find a place to sleep. Trying to find a place to pray. A place of peace.

The shaking and heart pounding kept me from sleep even if I managed to empty worry from my thoughts. Kept me from concentrating on prayer. So I’d offer prayer-flares.

Sometimes I’d watch a Frasier or Last Man Standing on Netflix.

Eventually I’d sleep around 3 or 4 in the morning.

Sometimes not at all. And I’d hit the gym at 5:00 looking for those great exercise endorphins to release and give me some sense of normalcy.

Waves of melancholy crashed over me. Not the good reminiscing kind but had me missing people and things I couldn’t get back in my life.

Like, you know, being 25.

I’d walk our dog around our neighborhood circle and feel, in some strange way, I was walking on the outside of life, looking in.

At my doctor’s appointment, I sat on the examine table looking and feeling like I’d met with a Mac truck head on.

She sent me for blood work.

A few days later, the doc called. “You’re not crazy! You’re super menopausal.”

WHAT? 

I’d been sailing through the last few years of changes and felt pretty sure I had this menopause thing handled.

Not so much. It kind of hand me handled.

But knowing what was going on provided huge understanding. I knew how to pray!

I still wasn’t sleeping well. And the night time trembling and heart racing were annoying.

Once I turned in the book, unfinished and the last 100 pages unedited, I thought I’d have some relief.

I’d survived the last month!

But my hormones were still adjusting.

I’d have good days and bad days. Sometimes a good day and bad day all in the same 24-hours.

My doc and I decided to “just walk through it.”

I was leary of adding hormones to the mess of hormones I was already dealing with.

She agreed. And I appreciate her for it!

So….

First up on the schedule-that-wouldn’t-bend was a writers retreat with My Book Therapy the last week of February.

Unlike past years, I wasn’t looking forward to going. But I had to keep my commitment.

And unlike past years, I didn’t have my own room.

I was sharing with my best bud, Susie May. We’d done it before but not with me having sleep issues.

But I knew I had to face my fear of going. That the hormones were talking and I’d give them NO authority over me.

I wondered if I’d be any help to the attendees who would have private sessions with me.

The night before I drove up, I didn’t sleep well.

Zombie like, I got in my little green convertible and headed out. First stop, my brother’s in Tallahassee.

And I had a date with some old friends and one of my girls from youth church days.

And at this point, I was confessing to anyone who’d listen, “I’m super menopausal!”

I decided to face my hormonal emotions straight on.

“You cannot own me!”

Here’s what I saw in the Word as promised by the Holy Spirit that lives in me: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self control.

Where in there is anxiety, nervousness and melancholy? Nowhere.

And sleep, hello! God’s word even promises sleep. Psalm 4, Proverbs 3.

I popped in my favorite worship music to start out the drive, then switched to teachings from my favorite Bible teacher/ministry.

I was going to flood my soul, my mind, my body with truth. With light. I was going to fellowship with the One who loves me!

In truth, I was mad at my body for putting me through this.

How was it fair? What had I ever done to my body to deserve this?

I had moments wondering where God was in it all as I was praying and believing for peace and healing.

But it was in the midst of those dark days that I sought Him all the more.

I invited a prayer-warrior friend over for evenings of prayer.

I repented of being mad at my body.

I prayed Psalm 139 over myself. “I’m fearfully and wonderfully made!”

In the midst of our storms, there is always the Light of the Lord.

I’m telling you, there’s a scripture for everything if you’re willing to look, to believe, to stand.

You know, we love the Lord, we believe His Word until the storms hit.

Then we tend to crumble, seek answers among men, among medicine and worldly philosophies.

But it’s in our storm that we cry out to Him.

Mark 6 has such a great story of Jesus walking on the water past His boys-in-the-boat.

They’re scared, thinking it’s a ghost. But they call out to Him anyway. (Why, I’m not sure…)

But Jesus, Mark says, “Intended to pass them by.”

What? Um, Jesus, hello… They were scared and in need of You.

But only when they called out to Him did he enter the boat and bring peace.

Ever notice when Jesus approached people for healing He said, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

“Can’t you see I’m blind? Helloooo!”

But there’s something about asking, about releasing faith, about partnering with Jesus even for our own healing.

It’s the divine paradox of faith, sovereignty and relationship.

It’s like “When you enter into faith and agreement with heaven you release His sovereignty and power thus increasing the depth of your relationship.”

That’s where I was… not feeling it but leaning into it.

I’d drop to my knees in the middle of making the bed or writing and cry out, “God, heal me.”

How amazing to have the ear and heart of the Most High!

 

Stay tune for part three…

You’re Not Crazy, You’re Super Menopausal.
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It’s Been A Year…

You know how sometimes things stick with you? Whether you want them to or not?

We go the long way around town to avoid where we once had an accident.

We refuse to go to that restaurant where we once got sick on the way home?

I was coming up on a feeling like that this past weekend.

Only it was something completely out of my control.

Would it happen again? Same weekend a year a part?

Hardly. But still… it nudged at me.

The thought flashed through my mind once… maybe twice while traveling.

See, this time last year I was in a heap of something I-don’t-know-what.

I was writing “How To Catch A Prince” but the story wasn’t landing with me.

I couldn’t find the plot.

I started over. Bad idea.

I wrote nearly 200 pages and the Hero and Heroine had not met!

In love stories, that’s a big no-no! They have to meet in the opening chapter. At least!

I took a few days to hunker down in one of the Teen Missions cabins.

I wrote for three and a half days without interruptions. Well, not many.

TM doesn’t have internet in their cabins so I was safe from that distraction!

My deadline was tight but when I drove home that Friday morning, I was feeling good.

This was my first book with my new editor and while I wanted to do my best, I felt my history with the publishing group would lend me a hand or two if this book took a few extra days.

That night at church, we had a guest worship leader in from the International House of Prayer in Kansas City, Alisha Powell.

I was looking forward to visiting with Alisha, to worship. To letting go. To forgetting about the book for the weekend.

Worship was wonderful. Lovely. But I could tell I was getting tired.

Long week.

On the drive home we talked of dinner. Pizza.

But I suddenly felt very tired. Like through-the-wall-tired.

And… weird.

My skin felt hot. Beneath. Prickly. Crawling.

Was I getting sick?

A slice of pizza and a good night’s rest and I’d be good as new.

I woke up at 2:30 am. Went to the bathroom.

While there, I heard, “You don’t have enough time.”

Subtle. Slick. Like a snake.

It grabbed me. Panic. And wouldn’t let go.

I’ve had plenty of anxious moments writing books and usually they come in the middle of the night.

Ain’t that the way?

But I breathe deep, pray, get my bearings and remember I have the story in command.

Not this night.

I was locked. I couldn’t get out of the panic feeling. I felt like my breathing was slowing down.

Then I passed out in the bathroom.

Husband came a running as I fell over the bath tub. Angels were watching me because there were several places where I could’ve smacked my head hard.

“Tell me what’s going on?”

I didn’t know. “I feel like I’m dying.”

He made me lay down on the carpet and immediately started praying over me.

Within seconds, the panic feeling lifted and I felt more like myself.

But the skimming skin sensation remained. And the prickles around my head.

Wow.

Thought I was just having a bad night. Nothing like that had ever happened to me.

I went back to bed and slept, but the weekend was waves of the same sensation.

By the beginning of the week, I was feeling better, more like myself.

I had a good writing time. Lots of words to cover if I were to meet my deadline.

But then the shakes started happening at night.

I’d start to shiver and quiver.

And a new level of stress hit.

The old “what if’s.”

“What if I don’t get done on time?”

“What if panic hits again?”

“What if I can’t do it?”

I’d been invited to my first ever sales meeting in March and I did not want to miss it!

But at this rate, I wasn’t sure I could get on a plane.

I’ve flown in the face of adversity several times, but physically, I was not me. Out-of-it.

No joy. No peace.

Stress.

I felt like quitting. But when I imagined calling my publisher to tell her. I still had no peace.

I had to walk through whatever this was…

When I’d sit at my desk to write, I could feel something coursing through my body.

I could feel my courage, my hope, drain.

This was not right.

My appetite shrunk. Nothing tasted good. I remember gagging down a piece of grilled chicken.

I went melancholy. I thought nothing in life would ever be right again.

Let alone this novel I was trying to write.

My goal was 5000 words a day. No, not goal, my NEED was 5000 words a day.

So feeling like toilet paper stuck to the bottom of some crazy-life shoe, I sat and wrote.

I had no idea if any of it was any good at all.

Today my editor read me two reviews from Goodreads…

“This book DESTROYED my heart…This book was every bit amazing.”

And…

“Excellent book, fans of Christian fiction will love this one. This book wasn’t as light and fluffy as the other two in the series, but that was a good thing. Regret and forgiveness aren’t easy topics. I loved both Stephen and Corina even though Stephen was a jerk at times. The author did a great job of showing why he was that way, so he was more of a wounded hero than someone who didn’t deserve Corina.”

Sigh…

How beautiful is God?

I came up from a very dry wilderness leaning on my Beloved to write this book.

And it makes me smile that readers are connecting.

Stay tuned for the rest of the journey…

 

It’s Been A Year…
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A Brush With Love Giveaway

A Brush With Love, my novella in the second Year of Weddings Collection, releases Tuesday.

 

 

 

Click on the graphic to enter the for the Kindle.

Be sure to enter!! And download the book!

It’s e-only for now but will release next fall in paper.

Blessings!

 

 

 

 

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All Is Merry and Bright. Thinking of Traditions.

I like this weekend.

The one right after Thanksgiving. It’s the beginning of the lovely holiday season and in our household December also includes birthdays.

Thanksgiving weekend means the Christmas tree goes up and it’s rivalry weekend in football.

Ohio State plays Michigan!

So it’s a thrilling as well as tense weekend.

But it’s tradition. And traditions are important.

We kind of live in a post modern society where we seem to be annoyed at our American traditions while defending “newcomer” traditions.

I like newcomers and I like that we embrace a lot of cultural variety in our nation, but it’s important to keep the traditions that have made us a free and great society.

Like college football. Like conference rivalries.

Like putting up the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving weekend.

Being a family of two with no children, it’s easy to let schedules and traditions slip.

We make sure to eat dinner together. Yea, even that would be easy to handle individually.

“Eat when you want.”

When I’m on deadline that might happen but I usually take a break and fix dinner.

Individual traditions, family, community and country traditions are a part of what makes people one.

A common faith.

Much of our country was founded and molded by the Christian faith. Universities founded. Laws written.

Even Indiana, the Hoosier state, is thought to be named after a freed slave who was an anointed preacher, Harry Hoosier.

Back to college football. The Big Ten has always played the Pac Twelve in the Rose Bowl.

But now that’s changing because someone wanted a “true” national champion.

Bowls can pick the teams they want to play in their end of the year extravaganza.

Tradition!

I can relate to Tevye from Fiddler On The Roof. “What about tradition?”

But life changes, things evolve.

New generations come along who want a chance to make their traditions. Hopefully building on the old.

It’s a tough balance between tradition and change.

What about you? Do you like traditions? Or are you always looking for change?

Leave Blank:Do Not Change:

Your email:

 

All Is Merry With Traditons
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Building Things

We’re building things at my house.

Hubby decided to increase the backyard deck when arrangements were made for the church staff Christmas party to be at our house.

He needed a project.

After the addition is complete, we’ll clean and paint the deck.

We love our backyard, even though in the summer it’s mosquito invested.

I’m upstairs in the turret doing some building of my own. Writing a book.

The Wedding Chapel comes out next December, a story of love and loss, of lies and pain, and restitution.

We’re all builders you know.

Building up our children, our spouses, our friends, even strangers.

Word are the greatest hammer and saw the world will ever know.

We can use our words to build or to tear down.

Far too often, we use them to tear down.

All in an effort to really build ourselves up.

Or in some cases, with parents, to correct or inspire a kid. But instead, the words belittle, rip apart and tear down.

Lately I bristle at the dialog on a few sitcoms.

Big Bang Theory which Hubby and I watch in reruns.

Man, they are snarky with one another.

There are times when I’m not sure why they like each other.

Last Man Standing has taken a turn for the worse.

Did the writers just run out of funny stuff.

The last few episode have been nothing but an exchange of barbs.

I’m not even sure I can call it real conversation.

Mike, a conservative businessman goes toe-to-toe with his grandson’s father, a liberal beer truck driver.

The show was funny in seasons one and two, dealing with family life.

Then it was as if the writers put on “objective hats” and created a character to “balance” the conservative views of Mike.

Oh, that journalism would have such objectives.

Sitcoms interject various points of view while journalism resorts to preaching, mocking and entertaining.

Like this CNN anchor who played a distress 911 call from Bistol Palin who had been attacked.

“Sit back and enjoy,” she said.

Huh?

It’s a mad-mad world.

Anyway, the sitcom barbs are uncomfortable. My spirit churns.

And I wonder, in all our campaigning to stop bullying, why we show rudeness and demeaning, cutting others down, as funny?

My prayers to become more Christ-like have raised the bar on me.

And the things i used to love seem shallow and pale. Hurtful.

Gasp!

Ultimately, we are to build each other up, as well as ourselves.

Jude says it best:

Jude 1:20 (NASB)

But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit…

So, what tools do you have in your hand and on your lips?

Are you using them to build up or tear down?

 

Words Are Master Tools In Building Things.
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Love Covers A Multitude Of Offense

Ten years ago I attended my first local RWA conference.

I knew no one!

But an agent I’d been emailing with was to be in attendance and I would not miss this chance to meet her.

So in one fell swoop, I joined RWA, the local chapter, and plopped down the money for the conference. A pretty big chunk of change.

But at the moment, money meant nothing, just a means to achieve the dream.

I was working full time as a software project manager so we had some money to spare, not a lot, but using it to pave my way to meet this agent seemed like money well spent.

Once at the conference, I introduced myself to folks, started the ole networking, but all along, kept my eye out for this agent.

I asked if anyone had seen her? Had she arrived yet?

I found the conference coordinators and managed an appointment on this agent’s calendar.

But by the time we sat down to dinner, I’d not found the object of my intention.

Some of the folks I’d just met invited me to sit with them. They flagged me over. “Sit with us.”

I was grateful and accepted their kindness.

As soon as I sat, the discussion around the table changed. They started counting heads, naming off names.

And within two minutes, I was asked to get up and leave.

They hadn’t saved enough places for their friends. Whose company they apparently preferred to mine.

I got up. Found another table and enjoyed my dinner.

Was I hurt or offended I’d been asked to leave?

No!!! Because those women were superfluous to my goal. I was there to meet with an agent.

So I remained determined.

And in truth, they weren’t rude on purpose. Just careless and maybe a bit callous.

When the keynote speaker, the fabulous Debbie Macomber, got up to speak, she shared her publishing journey and pointed to the back of the room, declaring that the first editor who bought her book was in the house.

Surprise, surprise, it was the agent I was seeking.

I arched out of my chair to see her. Where? Where?

This was ’04 and I didn’t have Twitter or Facebook to aid me with a picture. I didn’t even know what this agent looked like.

As soon as dinner ended, I made a beeline to “that part of the room.”

Nothing would deter me.

Was I nervous? Yes. Was I determined? You bet. And even being a dinner table reject couldn’t knock my confidence.

I met with the agent that night and again the next day.

She signed me a month later.

For me that small local, beach side conference will always be glorious. A success.

Forget I was treated rudely. Or that no one seemed to want to be my friend.

I met the one person I cared to meet. I could not be offended.

Oh, how I am now determined to live before the Lord in such a way.

Song of Solomon 3:3-4

3 “The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me,

And I said, ‘Have you seen him whom my soul loves?’

4 “Scarcely had I left them

When I found him whom my soul loves;

I held on to him and would not let him go.”

The Bride is determined to find the one she loves.

She is asking the Watchmen, i.e., the people at the conference, the people at church, the Believers, “Where is the one I love!?”

And when she found him, she refused to let go.

“Do to me what you will, I’m not letting go of Jesus.”

If I could translate my determination to meet that agent to my spiritual life, how much more free and joyful my heart would be!

The Bride is so driven, that even when the watchmen find her again in chapter five and wound her, she won’t relent.

7 “The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me,

They struck me and wounded me;

The guardsmen of the walls took away my shawl from me.

8 “I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

If you find my beloved,

As to what you will tell him:

For I am lovesick.”

Are we so love sick, hungry for a deeper encounter with Jesus that we will not care we are wounded by our brethren? By the world? That we will not let ourselves be offended?

This Bride is an example to us all how to pursue Him in love and cast off the restraint of our own hearts.

Being offended serves nothing and no one. We end up hard hearted, bitter, becoming the very thing we loath.

We become Pharisees. The ones standing by the robes cheering at Stephen’s stoning, feeling righteous and proud, a zealot for God.

When in fact, we are dull of heart and hearing, and what Jesus called “White washed tombstones.” We are lost, sick and poor.

We have everything we need in us to live righteous and Godly. We have the Holy Spirit.

Don’t deny His power and work in you to grow in love and grace and peace, to enter the Lord and be changed.

Do not be offended. Cover it in love.

“Let love abound in our hearts more and more with all knowledge and discernment so we approve the things that are excellent.” Paul to the Philippians.

Paul to us.

Have you had to work through offense? How did it go?

 

Love Covers Offense by @rachelhauck
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Fall Giveaway from friends and authors Susan May Warren and Rachel Hauck

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Just Where Is The Treasure?

We shortchange God. Not surprising, we’re human, we try to bring Him down to our level.

We tend to relegate greater knowledge of Him to “the next life.” And yes, we are going to see a God of Glory we never imagined.

But Psalm 31:19-20 hit me today as I was reading:

Oh, how great Your goodness, Which You have laid up for those who fear You,

You have prepared for those who trust in You.

In the presence of the sons of men!

You shall hide them in the secret place of Your presence.

You shall keep them secretly in a pavilion.

From the strife of tongues.

In the fear of the Lord, we find blessing.

As we take refuge in our God, He bestows good things upon us.

But  here’s the kicker:

“In the shelter of Your presence you hide them (good things) from take refuge in Him and you will find good things.

But they are hidden from those who seek them for selfish gain. From those who doubt and spread strife.

In the secret place of HIS PRESENCE there is great treasure. And they only way to enter into His presence is to fear the Lord (believe He is who He says He is!) and to take refuge in Him.

Think of our Iraqi brothers and sisters killed for being Christians. They found good things in His presence. They are rejoicing now for a momentary “light” affliction — as Paul says.

But what about your life? Here and now? Are their good treasures for you to discover in God by coming into His presence. Yes!

Proverbs 25:2…

It is the glory of God to conceal a matter,

But the glory of kings to search out a matter.

God invites us to search Him out. To seek Him. To find Him. He conceals matters for us to come after them. Not to give up and say, “He doesn’t want to tell us.”

Maybe we don’t know because we’re not asking. There’s a lot going on in the world today. A lot of evil.

We need to be asking God, “What are you about in this hour? What treasures do you want to reveal to us?” Then let Him speak to whom He wills. I love that in His presence there is goodness, riches and fullness of joy.

Don’t hold back! Enter into His presence.

Just Where Is The Treasure?
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The Way Of God’s Favor

I’m working on a theory here.

But I think I can back it up with the Word.

See, we have favor when we follow and obey God.

For example from Psalm 18:20-21 “The Lord rewarded me according to my righteousness; According to the cleanness of my hands He has recompensed me. For I have kept the ways of the Lord,And have not wickedly departed from my God.”

As we walk in HIs righteousness, He responds. After all, our life with and in Him is about relationship not religious duty.

Anyway, I ran an errand last night to get something fixed for the house.

As I was waiting for my supplier to find the part I needed, I noticed a hard sided, beaded purse sitting atop a box.

It looked like it was one-good-garage-cleaning from being carted off to Goodwill.

But I liked the bag a lot. See the picture. It would be perfect for an evening out.

So, I asked if it was for sale.

“No, no, it’s my daughters and I keep it out here because I know she’ll come looking for it in six months, wondering where it is.”

“I understand. It’s a lovely bag.”

We chatted a few more minutes, as she tried the replacement part on my appliance, about how fickle teen girls can be.

The conversation moved toward God, as she made out my bill, then toward a relationship issue in her life.

I felt the blip of the Holy Spirit. So subtle, almost easy to ignore. But…

“Can I pray for him?” I asked.

“Oh, please, would you?”

At the end of our prayer, she walked over to the garage. “Here, please, take this.” And she offered me the beaded handbag.

“No, I couldn’t. Please, keep it for your daughter.”

“She would want you to have it. I bought it for her and she’s never even used it.”

“Are you sure?” I certainly didn’t pray for this woman because I wanted the bag or any sort of gift. “Won’t your daughter want it?”

“No, no… please….”

So I accepted. Because at some point it becomes rude to deny a gift.

This happened to me in the spring too. I gave a friend a Dooney & Burke bag I’d had for several years and but had stopped using.

She was looking for a certain kind of bag and I asked her if the one I had served her needs. She loved it and I was happy to give it to her.

A few minutes later, we were talking about lip gloss and she passed over a lovely shade of mauve from Mac.

When I said how much I liked it, she offered to give it to me.

“No, I can’t take your lip gloss.”

She insisted.

When I refused again, she almost seemed… hurt.

She could accept a gift from me but I couldn’t accept one from her?

I repented and accepted her gift with delight.

Generosity breeds generosity.

Being and abiding in God often garners us favor. NOT that we do it for favor or gift, or you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours intention, but that’s sort of how God’s kingdom works.

You follow His ways and heart, and they follow you back.

God does that, you know? He gave us Jesus so we give Him our hearts.

Then He gives us the Holy Spirit which comes with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.

We give Him our wants and desires. He gives us better ones in return.

How about our money? As we are generous with our money, giving and wise, God is more generous back to us.

Our health remains strong or we get a raise and promotion. Perhaps our appliances don’t break down.

The appliance I needed a part for is over 15 years old and has only needed a new part once. My supplier was surprised the part she replaced last night lasted to long!

Sometimes we get squeezed in our finances or it seems every time we turn around, something is going wrong, but trust Him. God will supply your needs!

You can’t out give God. No one is going to stand before God and ask Him for an accounting. He’s not going to owe any of us.

Anyway, back to the point of this blog. What I saw last night was my weak attempt to step out and comfort this woman with the comfort of heaven resulted in a surprise blessing for me.

Hey, that’s the first time that’s happened, in that way, but as we follow Christ, the world softens, hearts open, and love is shared.

Let’s purpose to follow the Lord, be obedient and watch love abound. Phil 1:9

You follow His ways and heart, and they follow you back.
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There’s Always A Way

I started walking home from church today. Which is a bit daring since Noon on an Florida August day can be rather warm.

But I was tired and ready to go. Hubby was in a meeting after which he had several details to tie up. He’d be an other 30 minutes.

Normally I have wait for him but today I was ready to be home.

So, I found a way. Not ideal but a way nevertheless.

Walking.

Maybe it’s a matter of perspective or personality, but I’ve always been one to think, “There must be a way.”

A few years ago my retired mom discovered Medicare didn’t cover her sleep doctor appointments. She was upset and a bit frantic on what she was going to do.

How could she afford two studies a year?

So we talked it out. “Ask your doctor if she offers a discount for cash payments. And reduce from two studies a year two one.”

Why would she need two studies?

Her doctor heartily agreed with the plan.

I sometimes we’ve forgotten our heritage in this country.

We’re the sons and daughters of immigrants, of nobility, of every tribe and tongue on the earth.

We’re the land of the free and home of the brave.

The settlers defied the odds. Made their own way. Depending on no one or nothing other than Providence and their own hard word.

We’re a nation of the poor and the rich, living side by side.

Yes our history has some dark moments — slavery, child labor, prejudice against the Irish and Jews, Chinese and Native Americans, financial schemes and the like, riots.

But we’ve had revivals and revolution. Fought wars to set the oppressed free. We’re a nation were anyone can make it if they try. If they work hard.

But we’ve changed some in the last decade or two.

We seem to feel we’re owed something. That we don’t have to work hard and earn our place in the world.

We depend too much on government. And when something doesn’t go our way, we demand restitution. We demand someone give us something.

It seems at times we’ve become the land of the dependent and the home of the fearful.

Even so, I’ve learned I have to depend on the Lord more than myself or anyone else

He’s the one who “makes a roadway in the wilderness and a river in the desert.”

The post There’s Always A Way appeared first on Rachel Hauck.