When the mind is working, and the lessons are forming, and there are things to be revealed, thoughts continue to tumble forth and sentences are formed to capture the idea and put definition to it.
Sometimes it just isn't always worth sharing.
Rereading this for the third time and wondering, is it the third time that is the charm? How long does it take, really, for all this to sink in and actually become a catalyst for life to change? Or have I changed every time, it just feels that this one is the most painful-perhaps the more permanent-one in my life?
I consider the past weeks and all that has been in them. My heart has been ambivalent about the upcoming weeks (why am I wasting time worrying about tomorrows anyway??) and I haven't been looking forward with joy. It has been more akin to dreaded resignation. I'm already consumed with the time wasted, moments missed, "where has the time gone?" thought process that removes all gratefulness from my heart. Grabbing all the moments together into one big pile to mull over later-tomorrow, maybe-when the crush of life slows down.
I begin to look at the future that way, I lose sight of the good and I quit being thankful and I start again with a sense of entitlement....and, oh no, here goes the attitude again...
I cry out and scream and pout.
-No, no, no! I don't want it this way!-
The forever 2-year-old in my heart that won't be silenced. The ungrateful, unhappy, when-do-I-get-MY-way, spoiled collection of ugliness.
All I ever want is to be done her. Over her. So far away from her I don't remember the time she lived so close. She is whiny. Noisy. Unpredictable. Ungrateful.
I've started the list.
But my spirit is defiant enough to not want to follow through: There. I'll show you!
....my eyes find the red blankie. The tattered remnants of a much-loved piece of fabric.
Ah yes. The softening. A melted mama-heart. Thank You, God. For the boy. For the blankie. For the devotion and the protection and all that he feels and knows and loves. And all that comes with the simple joy of familiar softness next to a cheek. And just how long do I get to keep him little and sweet...?
I move over to the dishes. I can't quite form thoughts well enough to stay seated...must be in motion...but I can't quiet my spirit.
...I recall the words of a husband spoken to the anxious heart of a wife "Just remember, you are talking to me...you are talking to me...you are talking to me...."
Eyes brimming with "heart rain" every time I think on it. Those would be words I would want to hear. I think of my own husband, the one who takes the brunt of the worst of me. How I would long for such comfort. Thank You, God for words of assurance.
...my thoughts move on to a friend who spent a day last weekend saying goodbye to a beloved friend too young to be gone...
Praise You, God, she is with You. She knows You. There will be laughter again together one day.
...into thoughts now alighting upon the richness of thanksgiving comes the one thought meant to break me...that of the life journey of a beloved that isn't where it should be...
Do what You must, God. Make it unpleasant, unbearable, unsafe...so You may save. But don't forget-You won't forget-to hold this mama's weeping heart close...
...and there it is...there it is!
What the world calls a silver lining.
The bright side.
-but is really eucharisteo-seeing all is grace and choosing thankfulness.
Changed.
...who can hoard their life when they see the abundance of His grace?
