nerves

Today I had lunch with Tiffany, Jordan, and Danna. If you know anything about them, you will know why we started talking about Eric. I don't know why this has been happening to me so often recently, but I think about Eric a lot. Its true he loves being in Iraq. He loves the heat, the sun, the sand, the flies. But it seems that God is trying to teach me again how to intercede, by continuing to bring this up. I've had dreams and visions about him and all I can do is pray that it would be only God's will and that Satan would be bound by God's power. I've lost my skill at intercession. It used to be second nature to me, but now, I feel lost whenever I try. To be sure, I think about Eric a lot, but as far as intercession goes, I am very out of practice, and its kind of a catch-22 for me. I can't intercede because I'm out of practice and I can't practice because I'm out of practice.

Although, there was that one time a few weeks ago where I managed to feel a connection with God that I haven't felt in such a long time. The odd thing was, I was interceding for a person I didn't know. I was just reading his blog on xanga, and God gave me a little bit of the pain He felt for this person. Why can't I pray for Eric the way I used to pray for Eric? And you know what? The same goes for the youth group. Today I prayed for them at church. But the fire has gone out. Would they have noticed if I hadn't prayed for them? Did they even notice today? Did they even care? Sometimes I wish they would just show emotion sometimes. Emotion isn't a bad thing to be avoided at all costs. Its not going to kill you.

I guess, bottom line, God's teaching me how to pray for people, and be patient. I know it will come in His time. It's just a matter of waiting. I hate waiting.

PS... God created cats. Cats are so cool. Mr. Dibbs has a certain wailing meow that he makes when he thinks he's alone in the Glatz's house, like everyone abandoned him for good and he may as well just curl up and die right now. He's a very dramatic cat. But Tiffany told me the other day, he knew there were people in the house, but he went upstairs to Eric's bedroom and made that wailing meow at all the packed up boxes on the floor. It reminds me of a book I read. "Rilla of Ingleside," by LM Montgomery. Rilla's brother Jem went off to WW1, and his dog Monday followed the whole procession of people to the train station. Then someone had to physically restrain Monday from following the train, and after that, Monday met every train until the war ended, even during the cold Nova Scotia winters, because he was looking for Jem. Aren't animals wonderful?