Whereby We Cry

Last night the Mr. and I were driving home talking about a friend of ours about whom we're concerned. This guy made a decision and I'm sure he did it with lots of prayer and thoughtfulness but we were still concerned about some ramifications of the decision. The Mr. didn't really know how to exactly counsel his friend so he just brought up a few of the things that might happen if he went in one direction versus the other.
Some of those things are happening now. That doesn't mean the decision was wrong, not by a long shot. In fact, sometimes the only way you know for sure you made the right decision is that basically your life goes down the sewer so you figure you've made the devil mad.
When I was trying to decide whether or not to get a divorce, the only things that made me not get it were my fears. I didn't have some kind of dream where everything would turn out happy. I just had nightmares of being divorced and how bad that might get. That was enough to keep me married. Not hope or faith or love; terror. The fear kept me still long enough for God to do his work.
I've heard people say they never thought twice about something. I find that amazing because I think more than twice about which sheets to put on my bed every week. I give great consideration to toe nail polish.
My problem is the things I don't think twice about are usually things that I should've not been thinking at all, and then I act on them. Often with words I shouldn't have spoken. As per usual, I am learning about that problem by being ashamed of myself. After several years of being ashamed on a regular basis, I'm learning to hold my tongue and think twice. Interestingly, usually on second thought I decide to zip it.
I just wonder why I need terror and humiliation to inspire me instead of knowing God is pleased with me to push me in the right direction. Actually, I know why. Because I am usually not close enough to hear if he whispers in my ear that I done good. Pain I get. I'm like a little kid whose father tells them to come close to hear a secret but I stand across the room and don't hear him quietly say, "Good girl." Or maybe that just isn't an important enough pay-off for me? Ouch.
Could I actually be like a little kid who gets so many toys that she doesn't appreciate a gift anymore? Am I spiritually entitled?
I always wanted daboyz to honor us out of a true respect and love for us instead of fear of a spanking. I believe that is the only way for a family to remain intact after a child is grown up and can make their own decisions. So why do I still need fear more than favor?
If I change from a god to an Abba, maybe everything else would change too.

Romans 8:15 For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.