The thing is, I miss Him.

You know how people always associate children with joy and freedom?

When I see a small child at a park, laughing and brimming with immense glee, of course my heart fills with joy. But beyond that joy, there is a sadness, isn't there?

There's something that is so happy and so sad at the same time about the scene.

It's rooted in envy. Found in what has been lost to me.

That I don't look like that anymore. That this child can be so surrounded with joy, while I cannot. I look closer at the scene laid out before me in my own imaginings and note that the sky really is bluer here. The clouds are whiter, the grass is greener, and the sun is brighter. The air even smells fresh; clearer here.

And the sadness creeps in again as I realize that in my current state, climbing up the slide will not provide the same joy to me.

I miss that swinging feeling.

Of course, I can still swing now. But though the swing remains completely unchanged, the girl climbing onto it has not.

I miss my God.

I miss the uncontainable joy and love and intimacy that once flowed between us. I look back to just two years ago when I first started college and encountered God face-to-face for the first time. The excitement. The passion. The fire. How worship used to move me. A powerful night of prayer would refresh my spirit, and God's whisper brought much comfort.

But now I need a shout.

Dear Lord I miss you.

- bcl.

Test: F

I have so little faith.

There is a genuine lack of trust in God that I have discovered within my own heart this year. I struggle with a dangerous, relentless sense of unbelief. Trust me. I know.

How?

Because this has been a year defined by one test after another after another. And by test, I mean failed test. God has been stretching me this year in more ways than I could have ever dreamed up. His creativity truly knows no bounds, I guess. The challenges have been non-stop, and with those unending times of trials, came a plethora of tests of faith. Some bigger than others.

Edge-of-the-cliff moments. God saying to me, "Okay. You say you think you trust me. You say you think you know that I am your Heavenly Father who loves you and will catch you. That I have a good plan for you. That my timing is perfect. That you are not forgotten. That I hear your prayers. That I am your Jehovah-Jireh. That I am right here always.

Now jump."

World, I couldn't do it.

The Leap of Faith was asking too much of me.

Tonight at the docs meeting, we did a Bible study on the last bit of James, chapter 5. The title of the passage? The Prayer of Faith.

Didn't see that one coming. But I should have.

Immediately after leaving the docs meeting, I received a worrying e-mail.. and just like that, cue panic mode. My small, precarious, yielding, tremulous, and evidently shaky faith (if you can call it that) gave way. A brutal collapse of all things of peace and truth.. and I along with it.

The e-mail that I received tonight was such a small matter.

Just before writing this post, in my state of frenzied worry, I heard my God.

"Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt? This was but the smallest set-back (again, if you can call it that) and how quickly you were to flounder and break. Come on. Get up. I'm still trying to work on you. I need to continue to strengthen your faith. Trust me. Let me."

So James 5, The Prayer of Faith, eh? Here I come.

I want to be a woman of faith.

-bcl