Okay, It's Time To Praise God, Dammit...

How anyone can have the mental paucity to be an athiest is beyond my ken. "I'm an athiest" is all I need to hear from someone, and I know I am either dealing with a member of genus dipshittus flagrantus, or someone who is pissed at the Father and is trying to hurt His feelings. In other words, genus dipshittus flagrantus.

Tuesday of last week, my family was facing the very real possibility of the death of our son; we had no money, and no place to stay when we got up to Portland. We stood at the edge of a deep precipice, the wind of turmoil ruffling our hair, and still we held out our arms and stepped off, confident He would catch us.

The step was inevitable. We had no choice. We had been 'set up', and it had become obvious that He insisted we do this thing for His Glory. Well, obvious to me, at least. There was some cajolement on my part to me esposa, because, churched as she is, she is still a mother. We must note, here, that God chose Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. He knew dang well Sarah would have told Him to fuck off.
Women...

Okay, so where wuz I? Oh yeah, broke, and homeless. At Christmas. Don't go all symbolic on me. Joseph and Mary were rich. Just knowing they owned a donkey tells you that. If someone tells you they own a Hummer, you know they have muchas ducats. The 'stable' was likely a nice, warm cave. Our Lord did not suffer too much more than any other healthy infant who was God just a minute ago would, methinks.

As I told my parents last night, in an attempt to put this whole experience into perspective:

"We had hundreds of people praying for us, and it showed. A surgery that was scheduled to take all day was over in four hours. He was in recovery for less than a day. They could have released him, but they couldn't believe their eyes so they held him over to be sure. He should have swolled up like a pig, but there was none. He was eating and shitting in less than forty-eight hours, and asking his big brother to race him around the hospital in a wheelchair. We were planning on staying in Portland into mid-January, we came home Monday. We had no place to stay, and a half hour before we arrived in Portland, we got a phone call telling us we had a room. We had no money, and people from my blog, the church, and several strangers gave us over five-hundred dollars, far more than we needed. We left all kinds of food behind in hopes that it would benefit some family in crisis, and as a matter of fact, just before we left, two Life-Flight helicopters and one ambulance brought kids there. We hadn't been able to buy a single present for the kids. Christmas Eve, I found a 4' by 4' box full of presents outside the door to our room, with presents stacked up in and above it nearly to the ceiling. I couldn't move it by myself. When we got home, there was another box-full waiting for us. These presents include the full Leap Pad set, several Hot Wheel sets, and the apparently rare and ellusive Barbie Faerie doll. Not one stinker in the bunch. The Marines let my son go at a moments notice, and he took up the slack with Thunderbunny, brought us food, and was a general all around life saver. I would hate to imagine going through this without his help."

You see the theme, here? Yes, it is obvious once you step back and look. My family was put into a situation for His deliberate Glory, and He blessed us far more than we needed, expected, or imagined that we could be blessed.
At the risk of sounding like I am waxing all Evangelical, I know that I must communicate this to you all, and to anyone who will listen. God scares the shit out of me, and I do not care to piss Him off.

Faith is not hard, but it requires a mind-set. I have been cuffed around enough times by God, had my ears boxed and suchlike, that I begin to see the pattern...the Plan, if you will. He left us the Manual, and it is a bitch to read. I rarely do. He also gave us His Spirit...kind of a Universal Translator, if you will. The voice is still, and small, though, and not intrusive at all. Painfully reticent, and not seeking to overpower you. Sometimes you just have to find a quiet place, and...

...listen.