Patience to wait when there is nothing clear

The morning was unusually quiet. Purposefully scheduled. A week's intention rising from months of wishes, years of preparation - reparation, really.

It was time.

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea:
A great High Priest, whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on his hands,
My name is written on his heart;
I know that while in heaven he stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

Clothing myself in this grace, and fixing make-up, hair, and nice-ish clothes that fit my post-pregnancy frame, I climbed into the car with husband and babies, trembling a little in soul.

I'd not faced this yet. Was I ready? I had known forgiveness myself; had I forgiven yet? Could I even acknowledge the hurt that had driven me away, acknowledge its source, open my heart again to the possibility?

Yet I had gained so much from my time away. I found Jesus. I learned to speak His name, albeit quietly yet - still I am so tentative to stand fast in Him. I learned deep what the Gospel is, what it is to me.

Maybe I could just stay where I was, leave off the horizon that drew closer the longer we drove.

I shed a few tears past the lump in my throat, trying to talk, listening, strengthened, quietened by worship, by heart-vision:

When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look, and see him there
Who made an end of all my sin.

Because the sinless Savior died,
My sinful soul is counted free;
For God, the Just, is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

My hunger deepened, fellowship-hunger whetted and refined over months of interaction with people who know Him, people who live in different places than I live, who receive the same grace I have come to know.

They had not inflicted the wounds I had suffered.

There were others who had not, either. We were going to meet them. There was fear, rising, falling, like heart-palpitations.

Then we were there, and there was noise and greeting and hasty introductions echoing too loud around foyer and fainting, determined heart. Piper was happy to stay and play - a change from her must-have-Mommy cries of the past - and I slipped into a seat, with my hand in Pete's, my baby at my feet.

I didn't know the songs; had I been gone too long? No, I wouldn't have chosen or remembered them - they were a bit wishy-washy for my taste. The lump in my throat was too large for singing anyway. I looked around, wishing for a familiar face.

And I encountered Jesus.

There He was, Immanuel, God come in flesh, Holy Spirit templed in the dust around me, in the dust in me. I was not the only one in the room receiving His grace. I was not the only one who knew Him. He was here.

There were tear-tracks in my make-up now; Pete gave me a tissue. I had forgotten my purse.

"Humble us... Show us what You want us to see today." A prayer I prayed, because my spirit knew I must, because His Spirit in me responded where I had no courage. And show me, He did.

It wasn't the sermon about money, preached by a pastor younger than me. (Oh, I felt old!)

It was this: that I could not say that "I adore" Jesus, when others were singing and saying they did, truthfully from their hearts; I still measure my love for Him - I know much; I consider myself accountable, because with me it is all or nothing. There is no in-between.

It was this: that I could not look down on them because of the grace I myself had received, in which I was that moment dwelling silent on holy ground.

It was this: that I had dismissed. (It hurts to write these words.) That I had judged. That I no longer had to judge, because I was no longer judged - not by Christ, not by the One who could judge me.

I was confronted with Love, the love that sent my Savior - their Savior - to cover me in His righteous. My reactionary fears were shattering, left as ashes in my mouth, the tears I was shedding, healing tears, welcome restoration.

Behold him there, the risen Lamb,
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of glory and of grace!

One with Himself, I cannot die
My soul is purchased by his blood
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ, my Savior and my God!

And He had not wasted my fear-time, wasted me. Instead He had come to me, met me where I was, afraid as I was, opened me to His heart and given me brave grace to live and to give what will be my whole life one day when I wake satisfied in His likeness. He had taught me to worship, to joy in His goodness, to labor and live and deliver my work for His glory, learning to do the will of God from my heart.

He was more than a Sunday morning worship time, more than a sermon application, more than small group and potlucks and Sunday School. He is more. He is Life. He is my life.

I am not yet what I will be. How can I be less patient with others than He is with me?

We have none of us arrived, but when we see Him, when we see Him as He is, then... Then we will be like Him.

Twila Paris sings, "This is the Faith, patience to wait when there is nothing clear..."

With faith not my own, I waited on God; here He bent low to wait on me.

...

Shared in this week's "One Word at a Time" Blog Carnival at Bridget Chumbley's blog.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Rain Song

It's raining today. Seems like it's raining everywhere, as if the sky is falling with all the tears of all the loss that I see at the edges of my world right now.

It's always harder to hope in the rain.

Rain

It's hard to listen to a hard hard heart
Beating close to mine
Pounding up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Its hard to know when to give up the fight
Two things you want will just never be right
Its never rained like it has tonight before
Now I don't wanna beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm still alive underneath this shroud
Rain Rain Rain

Patty Griffin, Rain

"My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life." (Ps. 119:50)

He still bottles our tears.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

"Acknowledge Him in All Your Ways..."

Today I am reminded of a song. It's on replay at the moment in my mind. I can't help the music, no matter how still I try to be, I can't turn it off.

Gratitude, by Nichole Nordeman

Send some rain, would You send some rain?
'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again
And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade
Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?
Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down
Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways
And if that's the case ...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for You
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If You never send us rain

Daily bread, give us daily bread
Bless our bodies, keep our children fed
Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight
Wrap us up and warm us through
Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs
Let us slumber safe from danger's view this time
Or maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways
And if that's the case ...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
A lesson learned to hunger after You
That a starry sky offers a better view
If no roof is overhead
And if we never taste that bread

Oh, the differences that often are between
Everything we want and what we really need

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace
Move our hearts to hear a single beat
Between alibis and enemies tonight
Or maybe not, not today
Peace might be another world away
And if that's the case ...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace ...

But, Jesus, would You please ...

It is not raining today, though it is gray, gray, gray.

I don't know how to pray right now beyond that aching please... But He does give, and has given where I haven't asked. I'm trying to remember this today, trying to draw near, trying to trust.

Realizing that He knows, has already known this today-journey of my heart toward His...

*66: Saturday roses and little girl "smells"

*67: Christmas gift pretties

*68: Sleep for tired

*69: Morning that comes

*70: Quiet hours

*71: Humble

*72: God who sees

*73: Conversations with my mom who has been here before

*74: Sweet potato hash browns with eggs for breakfast

*75: Hunger for more

*76: Learning God-stillness

*77: More than I remember

*78:"Okie" and "Pe Pan" and "'Cle Kate"

*79: Friends who encourage

*80: Knowing He is enough.

"A man’s heart plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps." (Proverbs 16:9)

------------------------


This post also linked at Holy Experience, sharing with the Gratitude Community in listing my own One Thousand Gifts.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Bits and Pieces - Some Wednesday Randomnity

Because right now, I really have no energy for profound.

*I've had this song stuck in my head since yesterday. Sometimes the melodies just won't leave, regardless of any lyric-disagreements I may have (I can give you so many examples of this, you'd laugh at my endless quibbles over semantics. But then, at least you'd know I'm consistent about it, even with myself...). Don't worry, though, you can listen to it. It's just Josh Groban being a sap about stuff. Makes a nice background noise.

*We had a double weekend here, with Pete and Piper sick. It's almost funny, the new noises in the house - "snork," "hack, haurauck," "wheeze," "bark boark," "sniffle-glug," "arroo-roo-roo." They BOTH snore at night now, too! There's entirely too much slime, and we're almost out of Kleenex. Which we bought in bulk at Sam's.


This is the awake picture of Piper. Her eyes haven't been this open since yesterday morning. She is SO looped out right now...


*Pete finally made it into work today after working at home yesterday, firing on two of six cylinders (should I give him eight?), but hey, it's progress. I am grateful that this virus isn't a stomach-hitter. I've not been able to handle THAT gross since I got pregnant. (Yeah, I know, my time is coming...)


*Me, I've only had a bit of post-nasal drip so far. No headaches, sneezing, or coughing. I guess I was taking better care of me than I thought. This, of course, means that I am available to take care of my two and focus on my own "health" issue, the upcoming expulsion of one Button Sauer from inside to out. And after this Thursday, we can plan for soon.

*I dreamed last night we had him before Thursday. (I have these weird pregnancy dreams in which I deliver early - they are always way freaked out. In the last one, I delivered an egg that hatched an alien and the midwives became federal agents wearing hazmat suits in some version of Area 51. We ruled out a name after that one.) We forgot to call our midwife until I realized the baby wasn't eating - okay, I was forgetting to nurse him - and then the dream segued into a whole new show in which my sister inherited a tropical island and we were trying to help her get the people who were on the island to pay her rent so she'd have an income. In the meantime, it kept raining buckets, and I was trying to keep the baby dry and fed. I think I really should stop sleeping.

*We don't have any full-length mirrors in the house, because the cats were playing in our room one day and knocked the tall one over but GOOD. Lucky them - 14 years of bad luck between them (this is assuming we let them live that long.). I never saw something so funny as the two of them streaking out of the bedroom and taking immediate refuge in the large kennel they normally hate. Anyway, it's hilarious to me to realize how pregnant I am. I look in the mirror that reveals me from about chest up, and I look just like I did before I got pregnant (with longer hair, yay!). I may feel ready to pop sometimes, but I don't know that I look it until I go out in public and people are stopping in their tracks to ask me when the baby is coming. In the dressing room the other day, I cracked myself up looking at the full mirror - WHEN did THAT happen? I'm wearing an extra-large basketball on my front. Kinda wish it was that air-filled weight...


*I set up the baby's bed (soft bedding and blankets and a borrowed-from-his-big-sister Pooh Bear), and we're garnering the rest of our labor supplies (we're doing a home birth again, for those who are curious) at the same time we're trying to figure out and finalize Christmas. Really, we need to get out TODAY if we're going to finish our gifts this weekend, as we've planned. I forgot about Black Friday.


*On Sunday, we also set up our Christmas tree - artificial and pre-lit. Neither the cats nor the kid have knocked it down yet. This is an improvement over previous years.

*Finally, since I'm rather uninteresting today, you should really check out some other peoples who have more wonderful things to say:

- Jesus, on the Work of God

- It Was Bound To Happen from Ghana Girl, a friend who is watching God's work firsthand.

- It started with an idea, an attempt at being less careless with our much. We knew that if we started giving some things up, just small things, over some months we’d have hundreds of dollars. So we quit coffee and we stopped staring at clearance tags at Target. We kept a tally through our weeks of what we refrained from spending. Then we’d meet and we’d ask what did you give up and then we’d share and talk about how we weren’t missing anything. Then we’d say God you have to tell us who to give this money to and we were so excited.

Christmas Change - there is SO much good stuff here. Before you head out into the Black Friday mania, consider where else you might give instead.

- Check out a Wordless Wednesday post (with an opportunity to share!) from a gal who knows how to make the COOLEST stuff out of what I do. It's the coolest "next step" I've ever seen! I'm so totally going to recommend her work to future photography clients.

- A delightful (and frugal) recipe for orange curd - with a giveaway! I'm totally digging oranges right now. I really want to try it!

- Five Pies and a Lulav - Sharing Thanksgiving traditions (that we, of course won't be incorporating this year, because at this stage, we'll be thankful to breathe and TASTE whatever food we come up with. Current thought: Lasagna...)

- This post has had me thinking since I ran across it the other day - who do you say He is?

P.S. If you want to pray for my sanity to resurface, that'd be okay. Right now, I think it is in hiding. Of course, if you enjoy my insane, you could just ignore the request. ;-)





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Because He Holds My Heart

I had just whispered into kitchen-quiet, "God, I wish I wasn't so sensitive..."

The comment wasn't left to hurt or to discourage, but the heart had wounded before, and the innocent words brought other, shouting voices tearing at a peace that sometimes seems all too fragile.

Once in a while, a piece of music opens itself up at just the right moment, pointing into a vulnerable spot with healing that brings hot tears and sweet release. It's the stuff my favorite songs are made of. Music sometimes reveals faith I can feel, the place where what I know opens who I am to who He is, piercing through doubt and fear.

Here is one I just heard at Dianne's blog after she left a comment on my last post, perfectly timed to touch a soft hurting spot in my heart, God who is I Am reminding me that He is He is Abba for my spirit too, and does not give more than I can bear.

In All Circumstances

Be joyful always, pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
- 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Being thankful does not come easily to me. Prayer is not always easy either, as it becomes less about the words I say and more about the ache in my heart that does not know how to pray as it ought. Sometimes the concrete is limited to a description of my circumstances.

When I first became ill, collapsing for months on end without a diagnosis, I learned to live outside my circumstances. I learned that the "concrete" I had taken for granted too often blurred together in an endless cycle of shattering disappointments.

One day that year, as a winter afternoon blurred rose-gold into lavender twilight, I poured out my tears and my frustration, asking God why I needed to live anymore? The life I was living was no life at all, and it was nothing that I had dreamed.

The answer came in a song I had sung recently:

When I look into Your holiness
When I gaze into Your loveliness
When all things that surround become shadows
In the light of You

I worship You, I worship You
The reason I live is to worship You

When I've found the joy of reaching Your heart
When my will becomes enthralled in Your love
When all things that surround become shadows
In the light of You

The worship, my appreciation of God as God, became a focus, a center for me then. As words and reasons and lists of things for gratitude fell away, I began to see that if my whole world fell apart He would still be God. His Presence became sanctuary, His heart my refuge.

I’ve been feeling kind of restless
I’ve been feeling out of place
I can hear a distant singing
A song that I can’t write
And it echoes of what I’m always trying to say

There’s a feeling I can’t capture
It’s always just a prayer away
I want to know the ending
Things hoped for but not seen
But I guess that’s the point of hoping anyway

Of going home, I’ll meet you at the table
Going home, I’ll meet you in the air
And you are never too young to think about it
Oh, I cannot wait to be home

I’m confined by my senses
To really know what you are like
You are more than I can fathom
And more than I can guess
And more than I can see with you in sight

But I have felt you with my spirit
I have felt you fill this room
And this is just an invitation
Just a sample of the whole
And I cannot wait to be going home

Going home, I’ll meet you at the table
Going home, I’ll meet you in the air
And you are never too young to think about it
Oh, I cannot wait to be going, to be going home

Face to face, how can it be?

'Cause this is just an invitation
Just a sample of the whole
And I cannot wait to be going home...

- Sara Groves, Going Home(Click title to listen.)

After knowing this nearness, the things in my life sometimes don't mean enough to me for gratitude. Really, there aren't words to describe His Godness. I measure His goodness and realize how limited is my perspective.

Thirteen: Spiced Orange Cheese Blintzes I had been craving for weeks. (Recipe to follow soon.)

Fourteen: A little unexpected money to help with a Christmas tree for dreams and light and special before Button comes.

Fifteen: Tiny pink boots and sweet, sweet memories found during weekend cleaning.

Sixteen: Bright, bright sunspots on fresh-mopped floors.

Seventeen: Little girl mischief that comes out in a smile. Irrepressible, precocious, so precious.

Eighteen: Carwashes and rushing water and silly faces on an adventure with Mom and Dad.

Nineteen: "Happy" and "Sad" and "Loopy" and "Sleepy" playing games with Daddy who really knows how to play.

Twenty: A bed that is made together on Monday, in spite of shower dressing and breakfast and hair-doing.

Twenty-One: Receiving blankets, stacked and waiting for new life...

Twenty-Two: New life that is growing, growing, growing...

Twenty-Three: And sweaters for cold arms and the need for them because fall has finally arrived

------------------------


This post also linked at Holy Experience for One Thousand Gifts.






(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

Letting the Leaves Fall

I've been watching color surface slowly from the tired, graying summer greens around our house. The dogwood tree across the street is loaded with red berries that tint even the remaining green of its leaves into red.

I'm feeling the change of the seasons, remembering things I enjoyed about this last year, looking forward to replaying a few new traditions - well, "traditions" made with one good memory of doing this or that at a certain temperature, in a certain mood.

I can't wait to hold Button, to touch his face and hands with my fingers, cuddle him close, drink in his baby scent. But I am aware that his coming will bring even more change - and not all of it will be good change. More uncertainty for Piper when she needs affection. More financial strain. The possibility of another year or two of postpartum depression.

It was hard to read this today. I am still realizing that things really weren't okay after Pip was born. I was never suicidal, but the thoughts of leaving, the disconnection, the inability to cry...

I've spent a lot of time time trying to explain away what happened, trying to make sense of what God must have been doing, drawing conclusions that aren't really conclusions. I know they aren't; because I can't welcome the possibility of living through that again, putting my husband through that again, putting my children through that...

Change like this requires a good God. I don't mean a God who operates on my idea of what is good, but a God who is Himself good even if hell breaks loose. A God who is not afraid of change as I am, who is the same yesterday and forever, a Rock and a Hiding Place and a Stay for my soul.

During my freshman year, I sang a song in what seemed like a hundred churches with my college chorale: Almighty, Unchangeable God.

Who spread out the clouds before Him?
Who fashioned the earth with His hands?
Who created the starry host,
And formed the earth at His command?
Who scatters lightning before Him,
Commands the rain and snow to fall?
Who makes the nations tremble?
Who is Lord over all?

He is like the light at sunrise,
Like the brightness after the rain.
Robed in splendor,
He’s seated on His heavenly throne above.
His glory fills the heavens;
He is exalted over all.
Yet He loves me
With an everlasting love.

He is Almighty, Unchangeable God,
King of kings,
Lord of lords,
robed in majesty.
He rules and reigns,
For all eternity,
Almighty, Unchangeable God.

- Cindy Berry ©1996 by GlorySound (a div. of Shawnee Press)

The words still pile the tears in my throat as they did when I sang the song before, moving my heart-eyes past my limited perspective to a Job-vision of unchangeable I Am.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me."

- Ps. 23:4

(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Real Time

The clock is ticking sixty seconds in a minute,
Sixty minutes to an hour
Time is faster, time drags on
The days are long, they go too fast

The sun is moving, casting shadows
Day and night Time journeys on
Breathe in and out,
I am, I feel eternity
I am real.

Time stops; we hold our breath
Time flies; we hold our breath
Tomorrow comes too soon
And yesterday is gone.

The seconds turn to minutes turn to hours
The clock is winding down
Frozen hands and silence sing
Time’s march is done

The sun is setting, casting shadows
Night comes tumbling, day is dead
Breathe in and out,
I am, I feel eternity
I am real.

When time is gone, Life won’t pass me by
I can’t hold onto seconds,
Stars fall from the sky
Breathe in and out,
I AM, He is eternity
I AM real.

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Shared in response to a High Calling Blogs R.A.P. prompt - filling in the blank to describe "The Real...?"






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

One Unbroken Gaze - A Prayer

what a week I have lived, trying
since Sunday-success to make up lost time
like running the wrong direction
on an automated, forward-moving walkway, missing

love waiting for me, begging for my heart.

"there is too much to do," I say, "just
give me a minute more" and the minutes fly as
I get no further from where I began

And the trying is more than I can do so
I go away from grace and find me

empty,
swollen
with baby and with tears and with
disappointed expectations.

So I confess, and Love holds me free as
I ache down from my own pedestal,

still again in uncertainty
certain He is more than my need, more than my
limited gaze may see, that
trailing bit of God-Glory

Then I see Him, laughing, joyful
dust-and-God
tried in every way as I have been, in all ways
common to me, even bearing my heart-wounds
as God's heart broke.

"It is too much," I offer, unsure
of tomorrow-work, too afraid I am not doing
my part
to hold up His end of the bargain

Then, "I will finish the work I began,"
His joy grabs breath, for
He is alive

in my waiting.

I ask for so little, I think, but
He has more for me than
adequate situations that suit my
earth-fancy

and I am mere living sacrifice,
my life a prayer,
His song

about what my Author is doing today as He
moves my terminal-walkway toward
His heart

so I can fly.

-------------------------------

NOTE: I don't often watch or use artwork that portrays someone's impression of Jesus, but I decided to make a rare exception for this video today. Sometimes, it is only the Incarnation that reminds me that the God of the universe loves me, that He knows what it is to be bound by time after living eternal outside time, that ache of His created-image in me.

There were elements of this video that really touched me in conjunction with the song, Vicky Beeching's Captivated, that really spoke to me of Jesus' humanity, that gave me a small picture of the sort of Man He was, that painted a picture of how He must have affected His friends. I stare with them, half-wishing I had been there with Him then, grasping driving-down-the-road faith that brought me to quiet-praise yesterday as I got out of the house for a bit.

and i hate this song

There's a mother on her knees
somewhere in San Francisco
looking up and begging please
God, do not forget me now
her baby's on machines
'cause his heart can not keep beating
and she knows what desperate means
'cause the clock is ticking down, down
and hope rushed in like waves
that someone might just save the day
and if heaven's just a prayer away
then why, she cries, would God not change things?
It may be miles and miles before the journey's clear
there may be rivers, may be oceans of tears
but the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding
is the hand that will be holding you for miles

There's another mother on her knees
somewhere in San Franciso
looking up and begging please
God, do not forget me now
it happened like a dream
he was laughing, he was running
then she heard the sirens scream
when her little boy fell down, down
She had never known
the agony of letting go
but a few miles down the road
his heart would find a baby boy just in time

One moment someone whispers thank you
just then another heart cries, how could you?
when Jesus, who sees us, He says I hear you
I'm near you

It may be miles and miles before the journey's clear
there may be rivers, may be oceans of tears
but the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding
is the Hand that will be holding you for miles

~Nichole Nordeman, Miles
____________________

The barometric pressure always messes with me. I told someone this week that I try to take the depression to a quiet place now, do something constructive with it, create soft dark pictures, spend more time hugging and holding Piper, think of things to do on a sunny day, have a cup of tea, take a picture of a book (because I can't sit down to read without Piper storming the gates). Mostly, I think it just puts me in closer touch with my emotions...

So I'm a little down today. Pete is out with Kate and Piper picking up groceries, and I'm home listening to my music and trying to find an even keel after my wedding shoot nightmare last night.

And as this I hate this song, which is based on a true story. I hate what it means, the explanation that seems so obvious, the inescapable ache of what our sin meant for this world, for our children, the seemingly small comfort for one mother and the huge comfort for the other, the total unfairness of the thing. If I were God, I would heal the one and protect the other, and they would both be okay.

But I know the song only vividly illustrates what is true about the way He works sometimes. I've tried being angry with Him for it, but that just doesn't work. I'm not big enough to trump His sovereignty. Today for the first time as I listened to the song, I wept, and I mean wept. I was overcome with the sorrow of it all, tired of the struggle to understand God's thoughts and ways so I can make sense out of Him and predict what He is doing.

And as I crumbled inside and it all fell out in my tears, I found myself moved inexplicably to praise. To absolute amazement at His knowledge and glory and mercy and sovereignty. I've been walled off from Him for so long because of something I lost, something He allowed to be taken - my heart began to open, almost against my will.

My hands opened, something changed, and I worshipped my God because He *is* God. Because whatever happens, He will always deserve my praise because He is "I Am."

What will His glory be when I see Him someday and He reveals to me what I could not understand?

Childlike

Found part of this on a friend's Facebook page today. I had to look it up. Then I had to save it. So it landed here.

Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone

Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
that comes along

Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound

Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own

Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound

Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
She's a little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone

~Seven Years, Norah Jones

He is I Am - Part I

Sometimes I call out Your name
But I cannot find You.
I look for Your face,
But You are not there.
By my sorrows, Lord,
Lift me to You,
Lift me to Your side.

Lord of Eternity,
Father of mercy,
Look on my fainting soul.
Keeper of all the stars,
Friend of the poorest heart
Touch me and make me whole.

~Fernando Ortega lyrics, Lord of Eternity
_________________________

It feels surreal.

I feel surreal.

My life is happening to me, around me. I have wept. I have laughed. I have been afraid. Excitement is building and crashing, rising and falling.

In the years since I loved and lost, I have not experienced this wild, uncontrollable sensation of pitching headlong forward in hope. I find I have not missed the feeling.

My survival instinct is retching, choking. It does not approve of the fall I am choosing. "You don't know if this is going to work!" My mind screams at me. "He's already let you down! You can't be serious!"

But I can't stay.

My heart found its way through a crack in the wall around it. Light had been glimmering there for a while; I neglected to repair it.

He kept telling me He loves me. I want Him to love me. But I want Him to love ME. No desires stripped. No death to dreams, just so I could be in His presence. No sacrifice, surrender, no loss.

I wrote a beginning for an article that won't be published:

The other night I found myself in my daughter’s nursery, scooping her from her crib, not caring if she woke from her all-too-rare sleep. I needed to hold her. Bathed in the gentle glow of the nightlight we keep in her room, I rocked and wept, raining her with gentle kisses, trying to pray, trying to somehow gain from God a guarantee that He could keep the pain away and be enough for me.

People had died. I couldn't ask that. He let them die. He lets life happen here. We chose it.

Conversations raised questions: "This is the God I know," I said of a kind, loving God who likes us. "This is the God who let my dad die." Oh. He did, didn't He.

I wrote about gentleness. He said, "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Mt. 11:28-30, NKJV)

It's not easy, I screamed. You're not gentle. You want to destroy me because You want me to desire only You. Nothing changed. He did nothing to make it change. I'm heavy laden, and You don't care.

My heart broke; I didn't care. I railed at Him. I wanted to feel nothing.

My heart slipped free. It wanted to fly.

I don't enjoy free-falling.

What does He want?

"Your love."

I remembered. I remembered laughter. I remembered joy. I remembered spinning in the rain. I sang. I dreamed. The impossible was His. I lost then too. Surrender and sacrifice and asceticism were theological words for suicide and sepulchers.

I remembered I was His then. All of me. The pain, the joy, the hopes, the dreams.

I still am His.

The world is not His weapon. It is His creation. I am not His enemy. I am His creation. My friend capitalizes Life. I know why. He is alive, so I live. He is always alive. He has always been.

He is I AM.

He is eternal. He transcends time. He is infinite.

He is my portion. My heart won't be imprisoned again. It knows the Truth. It knows Life.

Remodeling

Piper's blog has been annexed.

Now that I am no longer afraid of posting more than once in a day (I really am neurotic sometimes, you know), I decided there is no reason why I can't post her updates here at my blog.

Honestly, maintaining several blogs at once is too overwhelming. I have changed her link to simply pull up all posts labeled Piper.

Thank you for reading!


P.S. For anyone who checked my "Songs of a Restless Heart" blog, it has also been annexed. You can find most of the material from that blog under "poems" and "prose."

Gomer

Don’t know what he sees in me
He is spirit, he is free,
And I the wife of adultery,
Gomer is my name.
Simply more than I can see
How he keeps on forgiving me
How he keeps his sanity
Hosea, you’re a fool.

A fool to love someone like me
A fool to suffer silently
But sometimes through your eyes I see
I’d rather be a fool.

The fondness of a father,
The compassion of a child,
The tenderness of a loving friend,
An understanding smile—
All of this and so much more,
You’ve lavished on a faithless whore.
I’ve never known love like this before.
Hosea, you’re a fool.

A fool to love someone like me
A fool to suffer silently
But sometimes through your eyes I see
I’d rather be a fool.

This God of yours would not have told
To lift the love that you couldn’t hold,
And though time and time again I flee,
I’m always glad to see you coming after me…

Simply more than I can see,
How he keeps on forgiving me,
A wife of adultery,
Gomer is my name.

~Lyrics by Michael Card

Listen Here

He'd be as happy...

Sometimes, I wonder if this is how Pete feels about me...

When he was seeing her
You could see he had his doubts
And now he's missing her
Because he knows he's missing out
Now it is haunting him
The memory's like a ghost
He's so terrified
'Cause no one else even comes close

He's a guy that you should feel sorry for
He had the world but he thought that he wanted more
I owe it all to the mistake he made back then
I owe it all to my girl's ex-boyfriend

If it wasn't for him
I would still be searching
If it wasn't for him
I wouldn't know my best friend
If it wasn't for him
He would be able to see
That if it wasn't for him
He'd be as happy as me

~Relient K

I Believe in You

When there's nothing to believe in, I believe in you
Forget the past and let my hand in yours be the proof
Though the strong could be my company, you're the one I choose
So remember, I believe in you

I know it feels like every eye is watching you
Waiting for you to fall, expecting you to lose
But I see victory, so all you have to do
Is remember, I believe in you

I believe, even when I see you crying
I believe, let me dream for you
When nothing comes from trying
Remember, I believe in you

There will come a day when love will lift you out of here
There will come a day when love will bring the truth
There will come a day when love will free you from your fear
And you'll remember, I believe in you

~Bethany Dillon

Weep Not for The Memories

Remember the good times that we had.
We let them slip away from us when things gone bad.
Clearly I first saw you smiling in the sun.
Wanna feel your warmth upon me;
I won't be the one.

I'm so tired, but I can't sleep.
Standing on the edge of something much too deep.
It's funny how we feel so much but cannot say a word.
We are screaming inside, oh we can't be heard.

I will remember you.
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories.
Weep not for the memories.

~Sarah McLachlan