Day 22 I'm about to make you hate me.
I have a freakin' good life. The picture-perfect house in the country with walnut floors that most days are covered in any of hundreds of toys that my three beautiful and healthy children share or don't share. A man I married who I had only just met a few months before and turns how he's a total keeper. He's got a job and everything. Like that ever happens. Those beautiful healthy babies were no struggle to conceive and my greatest symptom as I grew them was acid reflux. Three pregnancies and I only puked once.
You've probably puked more times reading that last paragraph.
I haven't even begun to mention my family. I'm just not going to mention them because then you'll want to kill me.
Like I said, it's a really good life.
And I don't know why.
Why me when she has cancer AND a son with autism?
Why me when her van was stolen right before she was able to find insurance?
Why me when she had to flee her country, three kids in tow, and now she is fighting one hospital visit after the next?
Why me when she was a victim of trafficking?
And here's a news flash for ya. I don't have an answer. I ask that same stupid question daily and still no answer.
While I know that God has poured out His grace over every nook and cranny of my lovely life, I have faith that He has poured it out over every nook and cranny of her life and her life and yes, even hers.
And here's a blog post wrapped-neatly-in-a-bow for ya. My theology of God and grace and blessing is all so warped and twisted that I just can't rest in anything other than, "Fine. This is what it is. Be grateful and pray. And spread the love and mercy of God like a Southern California wildfire during a drought on a windy day. And wouldya stop all your bitchin' and groanin' already. For the love, Ali, just shut up."