Letter to the "Father of Lies"

Listen you little creep.

Yesterday you tried really hard.  You were completely all over me and my day.  I tried to save my husband's plant, because it's all he has left of his Grandmother.  I carried it from the mudroom to the living room, and muddy water trailed me all the way.  Dark, muddy water on off-white carpet.  I had to spray it (which really hurts my hands), then scrub it with a towel.  I was worn out.  Exhausted.  Done.  And this was almost first thing in the morning.

But you know what?  Hallelujah!  My God Reigns!

Then, I was making a cake.  It took way longer than I thought it was going to.  Threw off my whole time table for the day.  You know I hate that, you slimy, evil jerk.  While that cake was baking, I washed dishes.  My hands were so sore and weak from spraying and scrubbing the carpet that I dropped my favorite mug, AND cut my hand in the process.

But guess what I say to that?  "Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty; I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

I know you know those words.  They are in the book.  The Book of Life. Psalm 91.  You know, the one where you LOSE at the end?  The one where you are thrown into the fiery pit and suffer eternally?

Then I make banana bread and muffins.  I put them in the oven.  Then I get a phone call. From my pulmonologist.  Got my CT results today. I'm showing signs of a viral or fungal pneumonia. The doctor also said he was "concerned" about a nodule in the lower lobe of my right lung. It's about a centimeter wide.  (Of course my banana muffins burned.)

It could be a pocket of infection, it could be a scar, or it could be cancer. I have to go back in 2 months for a follow-up CT. If the nodule is smaller, it was probably a viral pneumonia. If it is the same size or larger, I will have a PET scan. If I get sicker, I need to call him, and if I can hack up anything significant, I have 3 jars to send to the lab for cultures.

You like that don't you, you killer, thief, and destroyer?  Well you know what I say to that?

I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart;  I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and rejoice in you;  I will sing the praises of your name, O Most High.

 My GOD is bigger, stronger, and more mighty than you are rotten, murderous and cowardly.  You prowl around seeking whom you can destroy.  Well, guess what, satan?  It's NOT going to be me.

Bring it.  You are going down.