Night comes here, again. The evening passes too slowly - and too quickly; I don't have time to capture time that is spinning away from me as if the hands on the clock have come alive. They wave at me, taunting.
I glare.
I can hear the laughter. Time waits for no one. It would define my life in missed opportunities and vague regrets, chain me to its cogs and tell me always of my failures.
It is hard for me to remember that I will not have one moment forever, terrifying to realize that while I am still, the world moves on and it does not need me.
I wonder, does it see me standing, staring, trying?
I am restless tonight.
...
There are too many things I cannot do.
Household chores require many steps; I have a bigger house now. It is not as clean as it should be.
Getting meals sends me chasing circles around myself in the kitchen. I am often interrupted. I never eat without distraction anymore. I don't always take my pills. This is not a good thing.
I am defined by need. Surrounded with it. Defeated by it. My own needs overwhelm me; how can I meet these others?
Strength perfected in weakness...
I try not to think. It is another thing I cannot do. No - I dare not.
You know how they tell you not to look into the sun, or you will hurt your eyes? It is like that for me with God right now. It is an almost-delicious terror, the awe-struck sort of immobilizing fear produced by an encounter with something - Someone - who lives beyond your control.
I've had the feeling once before: one time before I knew Pete, he refused to let me pay him for something he had bought me. He was immovable. I could not change his mind. I learned early to respect him. He knew who he was.
...
The picture was accidental. I was shooting macro, not landscape - detail, not light. As I clicked the shutter, the camera zoomed past my focus into the sunset.
Here is glory, surrounded by blackened sketches of my inadequate attempts at improvement. Here is glory, exploding uninvited past my defenses. Here is glory, unacceptable, unwanted, filling my eyes, bypassing my control - a lens telescoping to eternal against my will.
...
Piper constantly wants "up, Mommy!" Bredon wants to be held whenever he is awake. I resist their restraint; my heart hurts so.
Do I push God away too because I am touch-tired?
I do not want to push any of them away, but I do not want to embrace them either - not God, not Piper, not Bredon. They ask too much; I am not enough.
I worry that Piper will be scarred for life. I struggle within myself. I should let her know how she is loved, but angry comes easier, and she is always in trouble lately. I can't help berating her. I can't stop berating myself. I love her so.
The days fly by and Bredon is already three-and-a-half months old. I can't stop time.
The hands on the clock spin faster. I am dizzy watching. Where is my rest? Does God even care? I don't want to look at Him. Surely He has cause to castigate me.
...
I think I have never been so stretched. My desires are many and varied. My goals are simpler: "Get through today."
Is this all life is, a getting-through? There are others living now; I know it must be more than I can see right now.
Seeing. I take pictures almost every day, but do I see? Do I really see? It is possible to look and look and look and never see, I think. Did you know even blind people can take pictures?
...
The words, hardly strung this morning, tumble out now, relieving some of the day-pressure, easing heartache and sorting feelings out of frustration.
All this pouring out, this honest - it embarrasses me to write, but I have to write, because keeping it inside is killing me - this pouring out makes for a purer heart. That is what it is, you know, a pure heart. Spread out and open before the Lord, before others.
...
I wrestle now with God, like Jacob. I remember he would not let go until God blessed him. Until God broke him, He did not bless him.
I fight the breaking; I am so tired. It is one more thing - one thing too many. One most important thing.
God is near to the brokenhearted.
...
Yesterday, my friend Anne shared a story with me that I had missed.
Jesus sent Peter and his friends back to sea after a night of unsuccessful fishing. He told them to toss the fresh-cleaned nets over the side again - in full day, when there should be no fish.
The empty nets were filled; the number of fish nearly sank two boats.
Peter looked at Jesus and said, "Lord, get away from me, for I am a sinful man."
Dear God, please leave me until I can bring something more than this...
Jesus replied, "Follow Me..."
...
"Follow Me." Two words follow me into night.
"Come to me, you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Rest for this restless heart.
"My commands are not burdensome..."
There is room now for His voice. Condemning sentences pinging off heart-walls have slowed and quieted.
"He will rejoice over you with singing; He will quiet you with His love."
I chance a look in His direction.
His mercies are new every morning; I am not consumed.
Why am I nothing again today? When did I start thinking I was something again? I cannot be broken. I cannot fail them. I cannot fail me.
He is faithful even when I am faithless. He cannot deny Himself, this God who is not a man that He should lie.
...
Easter is coming; I cringe at tradition this year. I need real. I am real. I need no reminders this holy week.
He is here, the living Word, piercing my soul, offering His hand. "Come, follow Me."
Where?
He does not answer. He knows I know.
To see God.
He waits for me. The clock hands blur out of focus.
...
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."
(Image © Informal Moments Photography)
