I saw a post a while back that spoke about getting involved when we see injustices.
And I read the comments, just to see where people's hearts and minds were. Divided. Many were saying, "not my monkey, not my circus". Others said that until it was brought to their front door, they were staying out of it. Then, there were those that championed getting involved - that it was better to be over-involved than not involved at all. I have been known to take all 3 of these positions, depending on the particular injustice being discussed. But the one comment that was made that resonated deep in my soul? - "Not all battles are mine to be fought." I have thought on that long and hard, ever since reading those 8 words. Yes, I do believe that in general, we should absolutely stand & fight injustice. However, I do think we need to be tempered as well by considering - what battles are mine? I am convinced that a major reason for our world being in the shape it is in owed to so many of every generation - past, AND present - having the attitude of "not my monkey, not my circus". When it comes to child abuse, domestic abuse, poverty, hunger, health issues, political reform, religious instructions, and so many more issues that we are now facing, in our country, and in our world. But I am also convinced that a major reason for so many of our familial relationships being how they are, bruised and broken - is a direct result of "too many irons in the fire". No, I am not speaking of abuse. That is a whole other side of things! I am speaking of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. How many times have other family members, or friends, even strangers, gotten involved in a conflict between 2, and what could have been settled with a conversation of open minds and hearts, has become a forest fire of epic proportions that now involves many more than the 2 or 3 in the beginning? So much so that if it ever gets resolved to reconciliation it will be one of the miracles that we have only read about in Bible stories of old! And no, this is not a new thing. But we are all guilty of it. Many years ago, in the very early years of our marriage, Rick and I made a conscious decision and agreement. That when we argued, disagreed, or got our feelings hurt, or our pride was broken - we would keep it between the 2 of us. We would not turn to family or to friends. We would not put others in the position of taking sides. We had already seen so much of that happening in our circle of friends and family, and we had ourselves been put in that position. So for all those years of marriage, we did just that. We kept it between the 2 of us. There were times when others, our kids and grandkids included, heard words between Rick and me (I'm sorry), there were times when the tension between us was thick enough to cut it into slices and others knew it (I'm sorry). But we did not consciously involve others in our marital relationship. Only after we had come to a peaceful and quiet time afterwards did we share what had happened - and then only as a teaching time, only when it applied to what someone was discussing with us that they were going thru at the time. I have more than once had family and friends - perhaps well meaning, perhaps with their own agendas and motives - come to me and tell me what this one said about me, or what that one said. And proceed to tell me how to handle it. Then, if I handled it differently, they were angry with me, with their own hurt feelings, that I did not take their advice and counsel. Or when there was a disagreement between me and someone else - family or friend - how many times have I been "counseled" to deal with it, when the "counsel" only led to stirring up strife between everyone - more than just me and that one? There are situations now that I could so easily get involved in. I can see both sides. I know the hurt on both sides. And there is that part of me that wants to play the part of peacemaker and healer. But - is that my battle to fight? Or would my involvement just make things worse than they already are? Those are just 2 of the questions I ask myself at least a hundred times a day (no exaggeration). So, saying all this to say - Yes! I do think we need to be very aware and on high alert for injustice. And to get involved, when it is our place to be involved. But that place needs to be the decision of YOUR own heart and mind. Realizing that there are consequences to being involved, as well as to not being. And now, this is all clear as mud! LOL
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This album, Believer, by Kutless was released in February 2012. Rick's diagnosis of Acute Kidney Disease, with Renal Failure, was given to us January 2012. My diagnosis of uterine cancer was given to us August 2012. It was a time after my diagnosis that Rick and I first heard this song playing on the radio. Instantly, we knew deep in our souls that this was OUR song. In those 3 years before Rick died, we listened to this song at least once a day, with a fair estimate being 9 out of 10 days. A river of tears was cried by both of us. Sometimes alone. Often together. Tears mingling as we held one another. Every time we heard it, or sang it, or even thought about it - our souls were made stronger, our hearts were comforted, and we just held on. Thru it all. During the worst of times, we were angry to hear it - even just to hear it playing in the back of our minds. We didn't want those "even-if" moments. We wanted healing - for both Rick and me. We wanted to live, together. We had thoughts, ideas, plans and a vision. And death was not welcome. Every shred of hope that the doctors and nurses offered us, we clung to like someone drowning must cling to a lifesaver. When we received the worst of news, we would just look at one another and say, "Even if". We did it all. We argued with God. We bargained with God. We promised to faithfully love Him and serve Him all our days - if only . . . If only He would heal us both. If only He would let us live. And then came the moment of truth for each of us - What if we aren't healed? What if either one of us, or both of us, do not live? Does that change Who God is? And then again, this song would come to our minds and hearts. Over and over and over again. Thru all those long nights and dark days. That morning that Rick died, as I stood in our bedroom, and watched the EMT's work on him, with the deputy at my elbow - I cried, I prayed, I begged. And I heard the words of this song in my heart. With the tears running down my cheeks, I softly said, "Even if . . ." And then, the EMT looked at me, with tears in his own eyes, and said, "I'm sorry, Margaret." For days that led to several months, I cried out to God. And then, came the day that I stopped. I just couldn't anymore. All those prayers, all those tears. And Rick died. I became angry, frustrated, discouraged. One thing after another was said, or happened all around me. My purpose and direction for life and living was gone. I was nothing but an empty shell. Going thru the motions of being strong for everyone around me - for the kids and grandkids, for family and for friends. I was false-fronted to the umpteenth degree! Oh, I kept on praying - for others. But I could not find one hope of asking anything for myself. I didn't question God's existence. I questioned mine. I didn't wonder whether God was with me. I wondered why I had lived thru cancer, and Rick had died. I simply could not pray for me. As I look back, I know that I was shrouded in grief. Inconsolable grief. And in those 4 years, I made mistakes. I took missteps. I made choices and decisions that not only hurt me, but far worse - those choices and decisions hurt my children and my grandchildren. There was (nor is there still today) no manual for being a grieving widow. Oh I found somewhat like people. Widows and widowers who were dealing with their own grief. All different ages, races, religions, beliefs. All at different points in their grief. All with a different story of life together with the one who had died. But I found not one who really understood, from experience, what I was dealing with. Spiritually. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. Or financially. There was one here or there that offered to at least try and understand. It was the most alone time of my life. I felt more alone and afraid than the morning that Rick died. I found myself in a miserable and horrible situation, with no way out that I could find. Hours upon hours of thinking, considering, looking for an answer. And every hour just left me more empty, more hopeless, more despairing. Nights without sleep. Days that were nothing less than absolute torture to live. Barely breathing. Afraid to do or say anything to anyone outside my immediate world that I was living in. Manipulated. Neglected. Abandoned. Used. But then, there came the morning that I loaded all I owned in this world into my vehicle and I started driving. Driving. Hours upon hours of driving. Just to get away. Constantly looking in my rearview mirror, seeing the fear reflected in my own eyes. Afraid that I was being followed, that someone would find me. Stopped for the night at a motel, a good meal, a hot shower, a little sleep amidst the tears of being alone. The morning sun saw me already on the road again. Taking me to an unknown future. And this morning, I sit here looking out the window as I write these words. It's been 3 years and 4 months since that morning sun. Been a lot of tears. Seen a lot of miles. Dealt with a past that I very much regret. Met a lot of people. Lost a lot of people out of my life, too. Deconstructed my faith before it was even a term. I had to get to the lowest point of my life, to look up again. And then, I had to decide what I believed, and what I did not. Not what my daddy or momma, nor Rick's, believed. Not what my husband believed. Not what we were taught to believe in the various churches we served in and with. Not even what Rick and I had preached and taught so many to believe. But to find out what I believed. For ME. I am still learning. But this I know without question or doubt - - the words of this song. Perhaps the most truest words to ever be written in a song. I tried to pick out the one line that spoke to me the strongest - I can't. I thought there must be one section that spoke the deepest - there isn't. It is the 238 words that speak the strongest. It is the 6 sections that speak the deepest. EVEN IF . . . Kutless Sometimes all we have to hold on to Is what we know is true of who You are. So when the heartache hits like a hurricane That could never change who You are. And we trust in who You are Even if the healing doesn't come And life falls apart And dreams are still undone You are God You are good Forever faithful One Even if the healing Even if the healing doesn't come Lord we know Your ways are not our ways So we set our faith in who You are Even though You reign high above us You tenderly love us We know Your heart And we rest in who You are Even if the healing doesn't come And life falls apart And dreams are still undone You are God You are good Forever faithful One Even if the healing Even if the healing doesn't come You're still the Great and Mighty One We trust You always You're working all things for our good We'll sing your praise. Even if the healing doesn't come And life falls apart And dreams are still undone You are God You are good Forever faithful One Even if the healing Even if the healing doesn't come You are God and we will bless You As the Good and Faithful One You are God and we will bless You Even if the healing doesn't come Even if the healing doesn't come Songwriters: Tony Wood, Scott Krippayne. For non-commercial use only. |
So why "Scattered Feathers" ? ? ?You can read it here Past Posts
April 2023
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