there was a place in life so painful I wanted to walk away and start over. well, maybe not all of my life. but a good portion of it. years of pain from many sources. years of shattered dreams, crumbling like glass, falling to the ground, carrying pieces of my heart. again.
to say it was the lowest point of my life is no understatement. and it was here, in the depth of that agony, I decided to walk away from Him. the cost was too great. the pain too deep. in those moments I could no longer trace His path and walked away.
because the circumstance of life in that moment were so painful in and of themselves, no one knew some of the tears I shed were farewell to my beloved King, my Redeemer, my Friend. the journey simply cost too much and I had nothing more to give Him. to give no one, really.
it lasted less than 24 hours. theologically and apologetically, I knew there was nowhere else to go. I knew I would not really leave Him. where would I go? to whom would I turn? even then, I knew my earlier farewell was a sham.
and then…
blessed be Your name came on through the car sound system. a familiar tune. words glossed over. and yet not. yes, it is easy to called Him “blessed” when things are going well and all is right in one’s world. but those last lines caught my wounded heart. the decision to leave Him still flitted around my heart. until
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
did you catch it? He gives and takes away. that is His right, as my Lord, my King, my Redeemer. Job knew and acknowledged this. he did not curse Him and walk away. I just wanted the walking away part.
but did I? or would MY heart choose to say that He was “blessed,” even when He took away? even when there was so much pain in my offering?
in that moment I knew the truth of that refrain. He IS blessed. on the good days and the bad. when things are rosy and when they are black. and that blessedness falls on us as His children.
in my pain, I was fickle, looking for a way out, someone to blame. He was handy. and big enough to shoulder it, never judging me for the fear, anger, or weariness that had taken hold in my heart.
He flung His arms wide, whispered, “daughter,” and hugged me. I chose, in my pain, to call Him “blessed.”
years later, it still brings tears to my eyes. even in church…
abiding one 
Last night, someone told me to “hang in there”. My response was “What choice do I have?” It’s a particular “rock bottom” when you feel that not even the choice to hang on is yours anymore. i think of your words and mine as a parallel “Lord, to whom else shall we go?” If Peter’s tone was anything like mine sometimes of late, I think there would need to be some sort of receptacle to catch all of the dripping sarcasm.