For years I have fed myself the lie, "It doesn't matter."  When things would hurt me, I'd tell myself how it didn't matter anyways.  Or, when I would feel bad because we couldn't afford things I'd again tell myself how those things don't matter to me.  "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter."  Those three words became a mantra in my head.  Over and over, they would cycle thus dulling any pain that I would feel towards a situation.  When you deal with intense financial crisis, "it doesn't matter" becames a soothing salve masking the sadness that struggled to rise to the surface.

In the last couple weeks, as I have been striving to be faithful to God's call, I have had to confront patterns and lies that are embedded into the fabric of my "think."  The lie of "it doesn't matter" is huge.  I figure it took root in second grade.  Second grade? I have been living with this infestation for years, and years now.  No wonder I didn't even realize how pervasive it had become in my response to life.  So, as I have been breaking it down and recognizing this thought, I have come to realize how much things matter to me.  When the tears well up in my eyes, I am sadly taking it to my Lord.  "God, these things matter to me.  You have placed in my heart these desires, and I am unable to use them.  It hurts.  Grant the desires in my heart..." My sould has been crying out to Jesus.  Is the pruning that I am going through revealing this?  Is one of the branches that I need to let go of "it doesn't matter?"  I am choosing to believe that by once again removing a layer, a facade, that God will meet me.  He will not let me exist in a place where things matter and I am wounded by the world around me.  He is challenging me, pushing me.  I am moving forward, I am not stopping.  Part of training for a battle is letting go of agendas that would slow you down.  "I surrender." No simpler words. And yet, such life altering words.  Our God is mighty and powerful, able to mold and sculpt lives.  I give Him mine.

But, oh Linda, my friend, you asked how to define contentment.  How challenging that is... Did you know my thought process this week?  Did you know all of the subtle ways in which I am being challenged in "it doesn't matter?"  How do I feel content when I feel trapped in an exisitence that doesnt' jive with the one I desired? For me, what I am doing is changing my future image.  How frightening that is, that letting go, that surrender.  I am praying for the courage and faith to hope that tomorrow, next week, next year will be different.  That financial battles will be won, that Todd will continue to be healthy, that I will be actively following my Father's call, that my relationship with my children will grow.  It is so scary.  For years I have hoped only to have the rug pulled from under my feet.  After awhile, it became easier to not hope, to not care, to not matter.  I can't do that now.  I've had to release "it doesn't matter," and now all the things that I shoved aside are in my face.  What do I answer my daughter when she asks why her friends get trips and her dad gets cancer?  A knife in my heart.  How painful.  I don't know....that's my initial reply.  And then, I humbly say. "but, what I do know is that God is faithful, that He loves us, that He died for us, for You, my dear."  I have come to rest in contentment in God, and in my relationship with Him.  There are too many variables in this earthly existence that make finding contentment elusive.  The only bedrock is Christ.  He is who He says He is. 

This is a challenging time for me.  Not as adreniline packed and urgent as cancer treatment was, but rather a time of release, further removal of facades, and ruthless trust.  I wish I wouldn't worry about cancer. As the first check up day looms closer, I can't tell myself, "it doesn't matter what the results are" because they DO!  As the pruning of branches continues I am coming to grips with the fact that there are spots on my core that are raw and exposed.  There was a branch, whether healthy or not, that lived there previously.  As they are cut, they leave behind the mark where they lived.  Instead of replacing and covering those scars with another falacy, bad pattern, I have been praying that God will put His healing salve on those places.  He is my God, my Rock, my Refuge.  I love Him with all my heart, and so desire to serve Him. 

This has been long and rumbling.  I needed to process much of what has been rolling around in my head.  For any lack of clarity and cohesivness I apologize. 

Blessings on your day, my friends...