I didn't expect that

I was not expecting to burst into tears this morning as I walked into Sunday School. We are reading a book about relationships (Everyone's Normal Til You Get To Know Them by John Ortberg), and today's chapter focused on the story in Mark chapter 2, where a group of friends take their paralyzed friend to see Jesus. When they couldn't get into the room with Jesus, they climbed on the roof, made a hole, and lowered their friend down to Him.

I've always enjoyed imagining this story taking place -- the shock and outrage on the faces of the religious leaders as the roof crumbles above them, probably dropping bits all over them. I always imagined the friends' being somewhat taken about when Jesus forgave the sins of their friend -- I doubt they really cared as much about the spiritual problems of the heart as they wanted their friend healed. But whatever their motivation, they acted, and got their friend to Jesus. What a beautiful story.

But the part in the book that touched me was Ortberg's discussion of the mat the disabled man was lying on. He wrote about our mats as being the evidence of our brokenness, our disabilities that we work so hard to keep others from seeing. My own mat is beginning to peek out. My control in hiding it is weakening. I'm feeling out of control and a bit like a failure.

Yesterday I spent the day looking at a college with my daughter. She decided that she really liked it and hopes to attend. The price tag, however, means it is going to take a miracle for her to actually attend. We simply don't have the money. We haven't saved anything for her college. I thought we had plans, but our stocks disappeared years ago, and those that are left have shrunk to fraction of their value. I don't know what I thought my job as a teacher would provide, but it just doesn't seem to help much. Losing 3 cars in 10 months hasn't helped. Our insurance has tripled -- even though there were no tickets involved with the accidents -- eating more into our monthly accounts. But we also haven't been responsible with our money. We haven't said no enough -- to ourselves or our children. We've spent too much and saved too little. I'm crushed and ashamed. We know better -- we just haven't done better. It is our fault.

I hope Taylor will find away to make her dreams come true. I pray that God will provide for her, and I trust He will. I guess if I could do it myself, I wouldn't need Him either.