window, half-open

Perhaps I shared a little too much in my last post, my prayer, my pouring out. Perhaps I didn't, though. If you know prayer, you know that words are only the starting point, that spirit speaks in feelings, in memory, in hopes, in dreams, in soul-language that words cannot begin to express.

I am afraid I may have embarrassed some readers with such open, worried some friends who might think I said too much.

Please know, I didn't mean to cause discomfort, if I did.

As I was writing, I wondered, "why here, why so public a place?" and God gave me peace to trust Him with it, trust Him with my heart, trust Him to know why He led this pouring out, this open window into my soul.

Someone asked me once why I write the personal things I write in such a public place. I don't always know the answer, except that if you were here and we were face to face, I would share it there too; why should I be less? Maybe I am a shallow person, that so much of me that seems so deep can be shared. But there is more; there is so much more. Things I won't write here, things I can't confess, things I hardly dare say within myself, say to my husband, say to God.

I almost beg Him for explanation: "why did You make me this way?" This complicated, multi-leveled, faceted, crazy-mad way that grows deeper with every encounter with His infinity, when He probes the depths of me and I explain what I know and find that He knows more and is simply waiting for me to open up to Him.

dear God. this is my pouring out.

It's not so pretty as I'd like it to be, this mess of a life, God.

I fell asleep trying to talk to You. Things get stopped up around grace, around responsibility, around confession. I don't think I have been shutting You out, but I've not been actively seeking You. I know because I don't feel consumed with You, though I can't escape Your still voice in me, constantly reminding, speaking of Your love for me.

breathe

The baby is no longer sleeping through the night. I think he is on a growth spurt.

I get up early with him, put him back to sleep, find some quiet time that is just for me. I stay up late too, after the kids are asleep, to find some quiet time that is just for us.

We played Yahtzee last night. I retooled my photography blog yesterday. It is still unfinished. I've not had time to choose something for branding the site yet. It's not a big deal; I'll be getting a flash site after my wedding in May.

I've not been very active on social media this week. I am measuring time, trying not to measure time, being more vigilant here at home where Piper is into the pantry or the refrigerator every ten minutes or so. (I think she is also on a growth spurt.)

I have been breathing too.

God's heart, my greatest gift

I was sure by now,
God, you would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining...

As the thunder rolls,
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain,
“I’m with you.”
And as You mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

-Casting Crowns, Praise You in This Storm

About that love. About that God who is God in spite of me. About my fear. About the pain that life inflicts indiscriminately. About that holding on...

So many times, in the middle of the storm, I've been here. Begging Him to speak, telling Him He should have done something by now, being good and praising Him in spite of it.

Today, I'm not in the middle of a storm, not a physical or emotional storm, not really. The sun is out, and we have some happy. I can count the gifts He has given, because I can still see them, hear them, hold them, touch them, talk with them.

But I have seen storms. I have lived through storms. Every day I encounter someone else who is walking through a storm I cannot imagine enduring. And sometimes, I can imagine it, and I begin to be afraid. I look down at the waves I've been walking on while I have been looking at Jesus, and I think, "How could He ever be enough for me to endure that?"

looking up

God isn't just the things I say about Him.

It is coming on to Easter. I am less ready for this than I was for Christmas, and I wasn't ready then. I hate the calendar. My life isn't happening in tandem with the seasons. The season I'm in is forever and no time at all.

I forget every single day that God lives outside of time. And every day, if I don't remember He lives, I go into a tailspin.

I haven't stopped running since I got back from my parents' house a month ago. And with two kids, I don't have any down time forcing me to think. But I feel. Oh do I feel. It is why I have been taking pictures lately. I barely have time for that, but it is the only way I can try to express some of what is happening in me. I don't write unless I can't sleep.

This is the hardest thing I have ever done. I'm not even sure what "this" is. Being a mother? Loving my children? Holding onto my sanity? Trusting God?

I'm not actively shutting Him out, but I'm barely running to Him right now. I'm barely doing anything beyond the immediate right now. I thought I'd been through it with my health issues before, but this stretching is unbelievable.

I think it is making room in me for love.

becoming - continuing the ramble

it is part of a becoming, isn't it?

i am not now, but I will be.

the words that spill out are so much dross from silver being refined.

...

i half wonder what my readers must think when i leave up posts such as i have written recently, when i so publicly display my questions and worries and doubts about God. if i have so many issues, it seems miraculous that i should believe Him at all.

or, that might be the point.

that i do believe Him, even when i feel i can't act on it. here i live, human, daring His wrath because i dare to trust His love that provides me such grace to fall. not that i want to fall. it is grace to fail too, grace for tired and trying to do too much in my own strength. grace to let me learn to look first to Him instead of wishing Him away.

which i spent much of yesterday doing as He reminded me to be gentle with pip, to not heap burden on burden - oh, how i want to hold things over her right now! i wished God away, wished His love away, because i wanted to be angry.

...

and i spent today in pursuit of an empty hope. it was so stupidly shallow i won't bother writing it here (do you see, there ARE things i hold back for embarrassment!). pete offered me more understanding than i could give myself - he said, "it's something you could look forward to that isn't what you always have right now."

i try not to duck. but i have been ducking. trying to perfect this and that and - did you notice that other thing? i've worked on everything from favicons to icons to buttons to watermarks in between discipline and nursing over the last few days. the shame of it is that i don't feel i've accomplished anything at all.

it is silly for this restless heart to try to force its own rest.

...

i have been shutting things out. trying to still the roaring in my head. trying not to look at ________ or at _________, trying to remember that they didn't start where they intimidate me now, realizing that they must have had some sort of becoming too.

tonight i let it go for a while. quit trying to think it out and make it better. went to "wommuhtt" with my family to pick up some dinner and a "huggabugga" (piper loves going to walmart; she saw a wendy's on the way and asked for a hamburger). i watched some scrubs with pete (when he wasn't policing piper) and talked with bredon for a bit (he loves his conversations with mama).

do you know, b has the sweetest poochie lip i've ever seen? when his daddy is holding him and he sees me, he pulls it out and lets me have it: "mommy, how can you let this man hold me when you're right here?!"

i value my dinner times. they are shorter than they used to be. i'm adjusting.

...

so i am neither here nor there; it has not yet been revealed what i will be when God is finished with me. the seed must fall to the ground and die before it can live again and bear much fruit.

i thought the dying was done. i hoped it was over, anyway. it's so... uncomfortable.

yet it is also beautiful, blown by Spirit-wind from the stem where i cling into the current of God-love known and God-love lived as i test this newest trust.

crucified, yet alive. a piercing paradox from a Master who became a servant, the Life who died, Love Himself who was hated by those He loved.

i don't have a heart for God, not lately, not most days. my own passion waxes and wanes, and i find it waning this week. He requires so much of me, it seems. still, i sense His heart for me, and i feel hope that i matter to Him, that He doesn't simply work in spite of me. i wonder if my prayers do make a difference to Him, if they are more than basic conversation or vending machine access, if He really wishes to take my heart into account in how He works out His plans for me.

you know. the plans for a hope and a future. the plans He has for His people.

plans. not wishes.

plans.

...

i'm not okay with sitting here, deciding i've arrived and this is the end, so i'd better conform to the highest ideals or accept my utter failure.

but i'm okay with becoming.

there's lots of room for hope in that. room for beauty. i feel silly admitting how i want that, how it has nothing to do with my outward appearance and everything to do with a quiet, God-stayed heart He is growing out of scar tissue.

my words seem to spill in what seems a long sigh - sometimes frustrated, sometimes tired, sometimes easing into rest.

He meets me here, too much for me, enough for me to approach Him for mercy, for love, for rest.

I Am who is I Am takes my dross makes me real like Him.

Yes, I am becoming.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)