All posts tagged complaining

Caregiving is Servant Boot Camp

Don’t you just hate the way God answers prayers sometimes?

Just because I’m praying to be more of a servant doesn’t really mean I want to be more of a servant.

At least, that’s what I’m finding out. Praying for holiness isn’t the same as actually being holy. And no, I don’t mean by works, I mean by practice.

You see, my desire is to be more like Christ but my flesh is weak.

Take yesterday for instance. Because in the Tar Heel State when it snows more than an inch, it’s an emergency, I’ve been shut in for almost two weeks. Sure, I’ve been to the store and a few other errands, but our society as we know it took a two week break. Schools included.

Mom’s caregivers have come most of the time, but there’ve been times when it’s been just me. And Mom. And Tom. (Do you feel the tension?)

So yesterday, when Mom called for the fifth time after going in several times, I told her I couldn’t come every time she called.

She cried. So did I.

It spilled over into today. I called my sister. We both cried.

Caring for a parent in your home is tough. Being the one cared for is tougher.

I can see that and sometimes that makes it harder for me when I look at my mother, because I see me in a few decades.

It’s intense.

So after I cried in my room and to my sister, my mom called me in.

“Sorry I called you in and made you,” great sniffling, blowing of nose, wiping of chin, “feel bad.”

“I’m sorry too Mom.” More crying and nose-blowing on my part. “I sometimes just need time to myself so I don’t go crazy.”

“I know.”

There were other words said and tears wiped. Then Tom prayed.

Knowing there is a God Who cares and gives me strength when I need it and joy when there is none is comforting.


Most people would say I’m a servant. I know better. The Lord knows better. Yet, it’s my prayer.

I know my blogs are usually short, but I have to add a few more lines.

I’ve been studying the Exodus. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, God does not take kindly to complaining. And that’s what I’ve been doing and I’m ashamed.

Because God’s Word teaches that He has me right where He wants me and I need to be content.

And really, my deepest heart desire is to want what He wants.

So it’s back to boot camp.

As Gibbs would say–Hoorah!



The Walk of Faith With Dirt Under My Nails, Part 2

Note to reader; this is not a funny post.

Just thought I’d let you know. I’m being all melancholy and introspective. Maybe you can relate or even make suggestions like my good friend Carey did on my last post about dirty fingernails. He told me to wear gloves.

I’m writing to you about my lack of faith. I’m a “Faith Light-Weight.” I suspected at one time I fell into the “Faith Heavy-Weight” category, but I was mistaken.

You see, if Facebook asked me how I felt, I’d say overwhelmed and exhausted.

Overwhelmed at the immensity of changing states, friends, churches, careers, and homes all at the same time. Add starting a new business that requires a Walton-Size-Family to work 6 days a week, 10 hours a day. Instead, it’s just over-fifty Tom and me.

Sure, our farming stuff grew. Little shoots came out of rocky soil and we praised God. Now, our plants are unhappy. My 73 chicks have turned into 73 chickens and require new lodging ASAP. I start work around 7 or 8 and finish around 9. Everywhere I look, stuff needs to be done.

The dogs dish is empty or the chickens need food. My mom needs me and so does Tom.

I feel like the children of Israel after God sent manna and quail. Complaining began seep into my thinking.

Sunday, Mom felt bad and our caregiver couldn’t come so I stayed home. I took a bath. I cut my fingernails and toenails and got almost all the dirt out. I caught up on the mammoth-size-piles-of-paperwork and straightened the house.

But then Monday happened. Labor Day. A holiday for most. My day began at 7 and ended about 9:30. I cried over the phone to a local farmer and was short with my mom because she needed me and there was nothing left for me to give.

Then I got alone.

Depend on me, that’s what you desire, isn’t it, Pauline?

God’s Spirit spoke to me again through Scripture. Remember not to worry about tomorrow since tomorrow has enough worries.

I thought of my friends who buried their father on Saturday. And another friend who found her husband and father of their two children dead in their home.

And then there’s my FB friend, Rachel, who has Parkinson’s. Her FB statuses inspire me.

The Lord brought the believers from Syria to mind, and my friends Jonah and Jennifer who returned to Pakistan today. I prayed for them.

Praying for others helps me to realize how insignificant my boo boos are.

There. Now you can see I’m a light-weight.

But, God still loves me. He’s still teaching me. I’m still learning.

I decided to phone my friend and share my thoughts.

“Siri, call Miriam Brinker.”

“I’m sorry, Pauline. Did you want me to call you a pimp?”

So thanks to Siri, this post is a little funny.

And I still have dirt under those nails.