I think that is the best way to describe the mood at our house. 

David actually went to work at a job today.  A real live job!  The kind where they will take taxes out of the check and offer insurance and stuff!  After a 90 day probation, of course.  Our youngest girl asked about her daddy while we were eating lunch.  "Dad-dad?"  she said with her head cocked inquisitively.  It was so neat to be able to reply, "Daddy is at WORK!!"

He *almost* had a job a couple of weeks ago.  He was told to show up for work at this place, but when he did, they said that a worker that had walked off the job had returned, so they hired him back, and didn't need David.  We were disappointed, and so, after that, I didn't want to post anything about this one until he actually got to work! 

Whatever happens, I am grateful that he worked today.  And I plan to be grateful tomorrow, and for any tomorrows of work that follow!

We are hopeful.  Not over the moon, but cheerful.  Thankful, and expecting good things.  We know that God is in control, and our future is in His hands.  We have nothing to fear, no matter what tomorrow brings.

We are also thankful for everyone who has carried us in prayer, and grateful for everyone who has helped us financially.  It is a miracle that we are still in our home!  These past few years have been very humbling for us.  I had no idea how hard it is to accept help!  And to accept it over and over again...well, it is humbling.  (Which must mean that there is pride to be dealt with, eh?)

It will probably take awhile for us to get "on our feet."  But it would be wonderful to have a consistent income to budget!!!  I LOVE to budget and plan menus and all of that!  That has been really hard with an erratic income. I am thrilled at the thought of working towards getting out of debt!

Please continue to pray for us.  If this job works out--best case scenario--we still have some real challenges ahead as we try to deal with our debt and our past due bills and such.

May your family be blessed by our merciful and gracious God.

Merechel

My husband and I attended a memorial service yesterday for his former employer.   David worked for this man for six years.  Two years ago, David was called into a meeting at this company and given the option to either quit with three months severance pay, or be fired.  Now, this company's policy was to issue three warnings before terminating an employee.  David had never received any warnings or write-ups.  The reasons they gave for firing him just simply did not add up.  But he left, severance pay in hand.

We speculated, bewildered at the sudden change in our circumstances, about what could have caused this man to fire a loyal employee.  David had called in sick one day out of the six years he worked there, and had taken a total of four personal days, total, to be with me when I gave birth to three of our children over the course of his six year employment.  David always showed up early for work, and worked cheerfully and tirelessly.  Not perfectly--he has made mistakes, of course.  I am not blind to his faults and weaknesses. He is honest and dependable.  Friendly.  Probably talks too much.  I'd hire him!  And I know him better than anyone!  Okay, so he is not a detail guy, which is probably why I am his wife--I can help balance him out.  Small potatoes, though.

We came to the conclusion that we didn't need to know in order to move on, that God's hand was in it (of course!), and that He would take care of us.  And He has.  And we have talked, and prayed, and chosen to forgive.

So I was surprised at how angry I was as I listened to mourners tell all sorts of wonderful stories about this man.  I could hardly listen!  I thought I had forgiven this man, but, there I was, seething with bitterness.  I sat stiffly, praying and praying, and thinking of Corrie ten Boom, and her story of forgiveness.

"It was in a church in Munich that I saw him, a balding heavy-set man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives. ...

And that's when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister's frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!

Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp where we were sent. ...

"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard in there." No, he did not remember me.

"I had to do it — I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us." "But since that time," he went on, "I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein, ..." his hand came out, ... "will you forgive me?"

And I stood there — I whose sins had every day to be forgiven — and could not. Betsie had died in that place — could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?

It could not have been many seconds that he stood there, hand held out, but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.

For I had to do it — I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. "If you do not forgive men their trespasses," Jesus says, "neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses." ...

And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion — I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand, I can do that much. You supply the feeling."

And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

"I forgive you, brother!" I cried. "With all my heart!"

For a long moment we grasped each other's hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God's love so intensely as I did then. "

Nothing this dramatic happened to me as I sat there at the funeral, but, by and by, I felt a peace, and I was able to listen to the stories, and appreciate his life, and even mourn a little that I had not known him, or seen what his friends saw.

It seems this man was a Christian, and generous with his time and money, with a heart for sharing the gospel.  I did not know that; I wish I had. 

I am grateful to be forgiven.  My sins are many, and they are ugly.  What would I do if Jesus had not died for me?   I am like that servant in the Biblical parable that was forgiven a debt equivalent to over $1,000,000, and turned around and would not forgive a debt of a few paltry coins. 

I am grateful.  God is good, and He loves me!  I am forgiven, and I choose to forgive, by His grace and mercy.