I drove home in tears, sobs that shook my shoulders and the black abundance of my heart in my mouth.

Paul asks, "Who will bring a charge against my Elect?" and it is me. I charged Him with not providing, with not giving, with taking away, with leaving my heart out in the cold and not meeting my expectations. I pulled the car over, thinking only of John 14, "If you cannot believe in me, believe on the evidence of me." If you can't believe in a God, believe on the miracles, believe in what you can see, believe on the tangible. And so I pray for a miracle. I, who pride myself on belief in an unseen God, on an invisible Savior--I asked for bread and expected bread, I asked for fish and expected fish. I needed it.

A few years ago I taught a class on Miriam and the things we say, how the deep recesses of our hearts are revealed by the tongue. And the revelations of my heart this week have sickened me; all the charges against God that have been sitting in the murky depths of my heart. On the surface my heart is consistent and congenial, but one upset of that still water plunges into depths of ungratefulness, fear, doubt, and resentment.

There are multiple reasons the past few weeks for me to shake my fist at God, to kick my tires and sneer at the Goodness of God. And I won't deny that I've taken advantage of the pummeling to do my share of sneering. This is Your provision? This is your reward? This?

In that class I taught I recommended the blog of a friend, Ann Voskamp, someone who takes the weight of life off her shoulders, gives it to an invisible God in the form of gratefulness. Someone who releases fear by the admission of thanksgiving. Someone who might very well struggle with belief in an unseen God at times, but who gathers the miracles and numbers them weekly, sometimes daily, reaching into the thousands with her nuggets of evidence.

A friend says to me on the phone the other night, "I wish I knew who the best Christian in the world was. I wish I knew so I could just go sit at their feet, watch them, learn from them." Ann springs to my mind--because I think the best Christian in the world might just be the best child in the world, and a good child is one who expects goodness from her parent and lines her blessings up like the treasures they are. So today I am lining, a small pile of goodness because I am not the best Christian in the world and I need the proof, the evidence sometimes. I need a provider.

Things I'm grateful for:

1. This song.
2. A friend who stood by me in church on Sunday, who cradled a baby with one arm, had a two year by her side and a weeping me into her shoulder.
3. My co-worker and best friend, who's lent me her car more times in the past two weeks than, well, even a best friend should do.
4. My roommates and our cozy, winter home, with tea every night and coffee every morning, and piles of books and conversation.
5. The possibility of a new car--and being finished with car shopping with the hopes that I will never have to do this again. (Allow me some naivety, please.)
6. Two brothers who are serving in the military--while I hate the thought of war and guns and violence, I'm proud of my soldiers who are willing to serve.
7. The new site that our church is starting in August.
8. A February that is just like every February with lingering snow, cold temperatures, early nights, hope for what's around the corner.
9. A February that gave me four (4!) brothers over the past 31 years. Yeah, 31. Can I possibly have a brother that old?
10. RSS feeds that show the whole post.
10b. And for that matter, blogs that have many, many posts on their page instead of having to click "older posts" a million times.
11. Ideas for making Christmas presents already (got to get started).
12. The fact that in March it will start to warm up, and that means we get to start using our awesome, huge upstairs room!
13. Tea with friends, snuggled under blankets, watching a good movie last night.
14. An awesome family--regardless of divorce, death, hurt, distance--my family is great and I love them.
15. My almost-sister-in-law teaching me how to crochet.
15b. Crocheting anything I can get my hands on, making up stitches and patterns. Loving it.
16. A friend who lets me cry in her van, be honest about faith and doubt, and who yells at me because I need it.
17. Her boys. Who are my favorite boys in the world. The world.