Sometimes, I want this more than I want Canaan, more than I want to live the faith that led me out of my chosen earth-home to follow my husband where God opened a door for him, for us. Sometimes, my lip quivers and I swallow tears, watching light and countryside and memories I have loved flash past, peeling away with a lingering ache behind our car as I ride back into yellow and scrabbled foliage and heated flatlands that just aren't home.
It is time, I know, to let God lead us, and He does in His time, in His way that is not my way. It is very vulnerable, this faith of mine that hopes, hopes, hopes He might lead us back to a place we know and love, while living grateful where I am, learning to love a new place for what He has given, despite the biting bugs and allergic humidity and soupy yellow light. And when He gives good, the holding-it-loosely feels as though it will break me apart with the constant knowledge that it won't last, it can't last, I can never be home here, because my heart-home is with Him, beholding Him, more complete in Him than I can fathom or dream or imagine.
I wonder where Canaan is, wishing it was here, half-praying an earth-fulfillment of the promise, knowing and groaning with an ache and a hope that wasn't mine before Jesus, before His Spirit filled me up with desire to be one with a heavenly Father, my Abba who cares for me.
It is a repeated theme, a constant reminding ouch to redirect my eyes from here to hope, an unfulfilled wish, thwarted desire that draws me into Desire Himself. And joy is quiet, glory-light seeping into my heart through diamond-tears, crystal-tears, salt-and-water-tears, something outside my dust. I see His faithfulness. I learn to trust His slow working that feels too slow, but must happen in His time, when He brings morning after the night.
It is time, I know, to be grateful, and I will learn rest again, because I know He is good.
Is this contentment, this whole-body-ache that keeps me stayed in Him? I probe and I ponder and I cautiously assess His gifts, Himself, the Truth that is a Person, the Word that is not mere words, that lives powerful in me and binds my heart up with Him.
And in the all-I-want-and-do-not-have, I have found the real, the grateful,
the small house that is not too small,------------------------
the baby boy growing and living in me,
the little girl learning new words and new love
parent hugs and sister hugs,
and little-brother salvation to leave me speechless
one soft night in my home-bed
and enough. Today, I have enough
and God is good and He is who He says He is, and I am not afraid.
This post also linked at Holy Experience for One Thousand Gifts.
(Image © Informal Moments Photography)
10 comments:
Oh, I loved that poem, Kelly. I'm so glad you had a nice time with your family, and it's SO good to have you back - I don't think I've ever anticipated a blogger's return before as much as I was yours. :)
Ahh...Canaan. I wonder where mine is sometimes, too. I read your first linked post and found myself tearful - I know that ache of missing somewhere that was home. The ache of that loss, and yet, trying desperately to find the contentment in the here and now God gives us.
Thank you again for sharing your heart.
There is our ultimate home, sometimes called a mansion. In the meantime, He gives us places that point to Canaan even as they fall far short. Places where we kick for joy like the unborn child and babble the gleeful words of a toddler.
Tender Kelly...
This touches me so--this from a girl who never strays far from home. And, um...I wish I had more opportunity to. But I understand, for it is these sweetnesses you mention that keep me here.
Bless your sweet heart.
Just wanted to say I loved your comment on Sarah Mae's blog today. Beautiful!
And thanks for following me. :) I'm looking forward to getting to "know" you better.
Reborn
Such peace I feel when I come here.
Just wanted you to know that....
Kelly, I truly believe that "heaven" is going to be more like "earth" than we think. The popular view of heaven often leaves us thinking we will walking around in white robes strumming harps and singing around the throne. Actually, in our eternal state we are going to be living in a new earth that God has promised to create (Isaiah 65:17; Rev. 21:1), a perfect earth, where animals and humans live in harmony (Isaiah 11:6-9), where there is no more death or sadness (Rev. 21:4), where nature is made perfect (Romans 8:19-21), and where God will live among us forever (Rev. 21:3). We will need no sun because He will be the light (Rev. 21:23; Isaiah 60:19-20). I'm savoring the Bible's actual description of "heaven" because it is much more "earthly" that we have been taught to believe. I think all the things that we truly love about this earth will be perfectly redeemed and realized in heaven.
Christy, thank you for the smile... I wonder as I consider your words if we'll notice it all that much, because won't we finally be consumed with His beauty then? I've often wondered what it would mean to have no sun but His glory. What does THAT light look like, do you think?
Certainly He will be the most beautiful (and I can't wait to see His light!), but remember that His creation itself is good and beautiful (Gen. 1:31, 1 Timothy 4:4). I think admiring the art only makes us admire the greatness of the Artist all the more. In other words, the beauty of the new earth will only add to His beauty. But you make the important point that we should worship God alone, not His creation. His creation should simply drive us to worship Him all the more.
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