This Easter service started the beginning of a series entitled Second Chances. I'm afraid I'm closer to my hundredth chance than my second. I'm always leaving to go do something else, remembering how fragile I am, and coming back.
Some things have yet to change, though: Faith is ever absent. All I want is to believe with every fiber of my being. I need the discipline to keep reading and praying despite what's happening in the world. But I also need the gift of faith.
Faith, I think, cannot be learned.
As for worldly things, my husband still has no job, we still have no place to live, and I still can't seem to get a hang of my job. Another firearm off the streets; another day my bosses tell me I'm terrible at my job. I've been re-entered into the training program for the third time, while all my classmates are well into their own thing. I know I have a lot to learn, but it's hard for me to believe that I'm so much worse than all the others. Pride. Well, I guess I am worse because, without my training partner, I would have missed it.
I'm also discouraged in my other pursuits. I fear I am a terrible writer and will never get published. Really, I'm just working on the daunting task of writing a query. For some reason, this is more difficult than the rest of the book put together.
So, for now, I pursue what I can without the faith I need to get me from one point to the next. There has to be a way to attain faith. I'm missing something.
