My oldest has always been the kid that had to have an answer for everything including a complete explanation. I have always tried my best with that, there were times when I had to say just do it. Sometimes there isn’t time for an explanation right then. Not surprising now that he is older he is beginning to question God the same. Yet he doesn’t have the patience to listen to the answers or accept the ones he doesn’t like. So this Mamma is very concerned and my heart hurts. I don’t understand why most of the time when it comes to God, but I guess I am okay with that. I don’t consider myself to be extremely intellectual, and as a result it doesn’t bother me that I can’t understand everything there is to know. I feel like in some ways God is the only Thing that makes sense. I have been trying to get through this kids head that faith isn’t intellectual. I don’t trust God because some scientific formula told me it was a good idea. I don’t understand so many things people do. But God! But God just being there makes sense. He is the voice in my head down deep. The one that stops me before I say that unkind word or urges me to say something kind. I wonder though. Maybe it is refusing to accept rather than true unbelief. When I was first diagnosed with bipolar it was a huge blow and I went through this whole process to get to this place. The place I am in now I mean which is beyond acceptance. It is thanksgiving. Saying You have done this on purpose for purpose. But my sweet boy is still in the stage of not seeing himself for the gift that he is. And perhaps until he does, he won’t be able to accept how much God loves him. Because I still struggle with that too. We are taught so much about being selfless that we don’t learn how to see ourselves through God’s lenses.
As a kid I watched my parents fight about different things. I don't really have any other parents to compare them to so I can't really say whether they were normal fights couples have or not. I couldn't even say what most of them were about except the ones that were about me. We only ate as a family on holidays. My father came home late so we kids ate without him. I do remember spending time with him in the evening before I went to bed so it couldn't have been that late. My own husband gets home a little later because of his job commute so we eat late every night. But home schooling has given us the ability to be more flexible than my Mom was able to be. We had school early the next day. As I got older, I remember my Father being home less and less and the fights seemed to intensify. I remember one night when I was thirteen. I could hear them yelling through the wall. My mom found me crying and I told her I didn't want them to get a divorce. She told me...
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