I miss it here. I have been without the net for over three weeks, and let me just tell you how painful that is. I can't imagine a world without cell phones, Internet, cable... I must have a been a very bored child. We got our first VCR when I was in junior high. There is something to say about how technology can ruin things, though. The Wizard of Oz was never the same after the VCR, as I used to look forward to it every year. I think I practically drooled (not really, but it sounds good) when my ego-trippin' AT&T guy came to set up my wireless & cable. I told him he was like an anesthesiologist... and I was like the patient waiting for her epidural. He didn't get it.
I miss it here because writing out my thoughts is much better than talking them out. Talking out your thoughts in the wrong company can be very dangerous. God has warned me of that danger many times, and this is how I know He uses my writing to sort it all out in my head and in my heart. When I journal or blog, it is my heart and soul... a very naked version... laid out as a prayer. God wants that version of me all of the time. He wants the good, the beautiful, the broken and the ugly. If I can trust Him with the broken and the ugly, then maybe I can give more of the good and the beautiful parts of myself to others.
In a way, God is like an anesthesiologist. He takes the hurt away when the pain becomes just too unbearable. I work with women all of the time who have that wild look in their eyes... begging me to make the pain go away. They writhe in the bed, they are afraid. The anesthesiologist walks in the room and the laboring woman's breathing will slow... relief is here! Just the mere thought of knowing he is there brings relief! Then, they have to trust. To me, as a nurse, an epidural is just another procedure. To the painful mom, it is trusting in a complete stranger as they bear their naked back and allow a long needle to go in between bones in their spine. But then, the pain lifts. The fear floats away, the smiles return. The anticipation of the sweet blessing to come is remembered. God is like that. I trust Him in my most naked and vulnerable moments, and then the relief comes. Not only does my pain lift, but in the end I am blessed... I am new again... like a newborn baby in a mamma's arms. And, then, I am reminded that the pain was worth every minute of it.