Monday, June 6, 2016

Lines from January, Part 2

Today was one of those days in which I almost made a list of complaints. Mostly petty. But whatever it was, the single-digit weather or my disappointed womb or the emotional hangover from yesterday, I felt all wrong. Morbid and unlovely, like some Raskolnikov. Didn't he take a perverse pleasure in repulsion of the simple & good? Mother-love, affection, friendship, lunch -- pet names and childish habits (in oneself and in others) become odious in these moods.
Ha. Haha.
The day was successful anyway. Chores, shopping, cookies mostly unburnt,
a sketch, C mailing my packages. Gracious. Holy Jesus. Fly in the face of my moping and pomposity. Kiss me black & blue.

Father, thank You. HJ & A are ENGAGED. And I'm hope. ha. home with stomach flu. And it's OK.
I love You.

I will say yes to You
I know You'll see me through whatever landscape lies ahead.

Today feels like two days, and words are limp.
A was just singing lullabies to C, who went home a little while ago, still very sick but at least with some Gatorade and chicken broth in him. Making chicken soup & Mom's whole wheat bread was a highlight of the day. The many stages, colors, smells, sounds. And it was good.

A & I finished "The Magician's Nephew", aloud to C.
The shopping trip was difficult. I felt on edge and fumbly the whole time I was driving. And those emotional undercurrents got so strong by Aldi, I almost snapped. It wasn't good.
God, help me not bottle emotions or entertain bitter thoughts. Sometimes it's hard to know when concern becomes pride. I mean, whether trying to please is people-pleasing, fear of man.

Nevertheless, I have had such sightings of You today as still make me quiver.
Bother. Words.
Your wind. You want me. You must not stop, because I am so foolish. I will forget. Love me like You did with the wind today, and the leaning sun, and the oak leaves roaring like the ocean.
I still hear it.
I can't - shouldn't - come out, but my spirit wants to jump out of my skin.
Why aren't we one yet?
Did I eat too much honey?
Even Your armadillo blessing I received clumsily. And nothing good is enough. I'm all pieces and hopes, texts and letters, hugs and sentence prayers (or run-on sentence prayers) and a string of verses in John 1.
And what about the lady in the parking lot? Should I have driven her home?
Your kids must all be birds, because Your words are rocks. I want to eat them, so please grow me a crop.
Please anchor me and pin me up, low and lofty. Help me care only about Your opinion. NO human approval supersedes Yours. Doesn't matter.
I want the real stuff. Don't let me get cloudy and acceptable. Don't leave me to eat my regurgitated words. Pour Yourself into me, like some holy colon cleanse.
Show me all the open space in You. Open up everything in me (and I'm too self-protective -- still!).
Only Jesus.

I feel like this is an, "I have the write (right, ha!) to remain silent..." moment. I don't trust myself.
And I'm still weak and trembly.
But, I don't want to miss this, either. This chance to say, thank You for answering prayer. You know what we need when we need it. You know how to make us ready. Help me not be overcome by anything but You. Sift our words with me - J's and mine - such a torrent of them over the last 3 hours, and now silence, and thought, foolishness and giddiness and peace. Where am I? What happened? Was that me, is this real?
I don't know what to feel, but I'm...thankful.
And calling Mom and Dad now.

Lord, the Psalter readings today are so fitting. Thanks. Unless You build the house... and You grant sleep. Please grant me the kind I need tonight.
And steady, and ready me. I got ~3 hours last night. But thanks for that ~35 minute moss rest, out in the woods by C's other cabin.
The sun. The gentle wind. The susurration of leaves. And I was warm, and molded to the ground in tiredness. Sweet blue sky, and bare branches, with something like buds. This is a time to live in, and trust.

Rilke's "Exposed on the cliffs of the heart" became especially fitting. So many things did. Berry quotes I copied, things A said, my own songs... "Grow within this womb of clarity, God does no thing in halves."
I have what I need to live and go on. Even though I dread and anticipate a reply. Even though I feel like I've been split open and the insides are all hanging out of me, and I must seem very simple and hypocritical. As much as I want to think I'm special and will get special consideration/treatment, I have no guarantee. I think my trust will be tested. I think it ought to be -
but help me, Jesus, to put my trust in You.

D once told me You would never let me down. Prove Your power, the reputation You have for resurrection. Wash us with Your love.
This is a good place to be, small and vulnerable, but receptive, waiting. Nestled against You. Don't let me waste this. This time when everything is open and somehow possible, when I can be remade.
Guts. And glory.

Mi Querido.
Thank You for Genny's message, and Your deep love.
For sunlight so bright my face is crinkly and pink in places. For that hour in the sun with A. And our prayers. And crafting for the banquet. And yoga. And favor, somehow; a Facebook 15 minutes. Eh, that's not the point. I mean, that You moved people through the song You gave me. Thank You.
And You even saw my petty half-wish for a new profile pic, and provided one today. Such a one, I don't think I know myself. Am I really that free and joyful? I want to be. To claim You.
Keep healing.
C and A wanted to be astronauts. They took a trip to outer space tonight.

Help me be patient. Missouri weather's changeable, and so are my emotions. I don't really regret anything, not that...but I'm sorry all the same. Felt pretty heavy and sad today, still hearing nothing, feeling like an amateur, an idealist.
Not suited to real living.
Whatever that means.
Feeling conventional and shallow, let's say. Very white and safe and pitiable. Very female.
I'd better stop, this isn't edifying.
Please give me some useful things to do and some more beauty tomorrow. More of You.
Give me eyes to eternity and the spiritual battles raging, and not a magnifying glass to my own navel.
Betelgeuse. My brothers. The postal service. Life is full of glories.
I love You, Holy One. I bloody love You.

Help me to remember Psalm 139 all day today.
Use me for Your pleasure.

Oh, I needed that four-wheeler ride. Fear and faith, wild beauty. Wind and laughter. That rush of air, and tears streaming along our faces, and hair stiff with dust by the time we got home.

Console me, center me. The first flush is fading, and I'm tired and uninspired.
Craft us some great ship for sailing in. Thank You for the love of my friends. Help me pray. And carve out rest for me tomorrow.

The walls are bare now. "Nor can foot feel, being shod."
No, I'm actually barefoot. On my bed, feeling too awake and calm to be leaving tomorrow. I don't know when the tears will come.
Thank You for the strength You gave me today, that was no less a miracle than anything.
And sweet goodbyes.

No comments:

Post a Comment