Sunday, September 11, 2016

Lines from August, Part 1

I love life.
I love breakfast, steam rising from washed dishes, the sound of wind in treetops. I love sleep after showering after sweaty work. I love voices rising and swelling in harmony, in worship.
I love the way a baby's hand curls around a neck. I love the feel of folded paper, and the nap of knitted blankets, and the electric connection of hands.
I love spider's webs and bird's nests and beaver's dams. I love the color of beets. I love the fragrant snap of pine, and cedar, and the warmth of kitchen herbs. I love familiar words, and new friends, and old friends, and laughter.
I love weddings and dancing. I love to be kissed on the forehead, because it is more than equanimity: it is blessing.

I'm not sure what to do about this. I'm not sure how to handle my swollen, freckled ego. How do you handle dreams coming true? Who ever prepares you for that? It's like a kid from a viral home video airing on late night TV. Overwhelmed and awkward, or obnoxious, and definitely anticlimactic.
That's me. That's what I'll be, if You don't help me. I don't find myself in my own entrails or glorification, I find myself in You.
And I do want to believe all the dreams You nested deep in me.
But You understand how many of them are nothing grandiose, but only the privilege of something small, and shared. The kind of dreams that are horribly afraid of being laughed at, or disappointed, and so are endangered species. These need a special skin: vulnerable courage.
That delicate balance.
Oh, I am such a child.
(Make me more, and more, and more of one, more than I ever really was).
Pour these many thick, metallic prayers straight from my lips to Yours.
I need to see the way You absorb the massy needs of the whole world.
Holy Bridegroom, wash me.

You've been asking me to dance, over and over, the last few days.
Thank You for loving me steadily, without change.

"Persisting to the end will be the burr under your saddle - the thorn in your flesh - when the road ahead seems endless and your soul begs an early discharge. It weighs down every other difficulty of your calling." - William Gurnell

"A hesitant man is the last thing in the world a woman needs. She needs a lover and a warrior, not a Really Nice Guy." - John Eldredge

Yesterday we finished right around 5, which is unheard of.
Until now, duh. Why do we (I) use such phrases?
Anyway, yesterday was sweet, sweeping and mopping, running the store, being gifted with a beautiful leather purse from K and N.
I wiped mashed potatoes off the floor and B's shoes. A hilarious and iconic moment, especially since John 13 was the day's chapter.

K picked me up and took me back to the S's for the Olympics opening ceremony and dinner. K and J watched the ceremony to the end, but I spent the last couple hours upstairs, sticky, praying and reading and processing another invitation to travel next summer.
And I was startled by another invitation today. I'm learning these things, and learning myself, slowly. I still need Your help SO BADLY, because in some situations I'm practically senseless. My heart has leapt and rocketed a couple of times recently, and it feels addictive and ridiculous, and I have to laugh, but also pause with wide and solemn eyes. That I'm even writing this makes me want to laugh, and blush, and go wash dishes.

I think I'm picking belly button lint with this entry. I think I'm getting sick, and I need to sleep. Tonight, stormy then cloudy night, was stellar. Nimbular. Romantic and wild. Thanks.
Press the prayers out of me, and press in Your Words.

Thanks for leading me. Please grant us superhuman patience and love this week. Unexpected rest. Cleverness and humor and kindness beyond our natural abilities.
Unite my heart to Yours, O Abba. So many forgotten, overlooked, needy people in this world. So many in chains.
Free us. 

I still don't understand how to love the Good humbly, and with everything in me. Love must come first. Saturate me. Glow from me.

Thank You, Father. I was asking for points of meaning to lengthen this time, and You gave them. Time to rest and correspond, to watch the Advanced Equestrian show (which made me bleary-eyed), to swing at Traber (after coming upon a festival of R, R, and Z), to chat with E and N, to shower, do laundry, get Mucinex from the nurse, and hide notes. And it's not even 10pm.
Thank You, Lord.

This has been a very good summer.
Every single thing must be surrendered, it's true. For life to come. For You to fill me and satisfy me. I cannot clutch to anything else at all. This doesn't always look as I expect it to look.

I am rude and insensitive when I feel unwanted or vulnerable. Please help me with this: First, to know I am always wanted, cherished, and protected; Second, to always pass that on.
Lord, You are mightier than we believe You to be. Help us pay You the honor of trusting You for much, much more. Of hurling ourselves into the unknown, where You've called us, with songs of praise and shouts of triumph, and with fervent, continual prayer. Bring hearts to Your throne, to Your lap.
If only I had a pure heart, one with Yours right now. Holy Lord, hold onto me. You are all I have. I long for You. Let me live in such a way that Your return will bring no shame, but only joy like I've only brushed against.
Your blue-black butterfly rushed at my face tonight, You know.
"This is your goal."

This is it. Tomorrow A becomes Mrs. E.
(Thanks for such a delightful evening with Mom and Dad, talking, praying, singing).

A and C are wed. It was a day that resounded through the heavens.
This is all so much more than I can handle. You are holding me secure, but it is only You. My head is still aching after the hard cry I had, as Mom and Dad were praying. Mom's prayer is what tipped me over, though she doesn't know it. There is, anyway, so much we absolutely depend on You to do. Such as keep the planets in motion, keep us breathing in our sleep, help us remember our lives upon waking, and not remain in dreams.
I depend on You to hold my soul intact, and bring us all toward You. FREE US. This darkness is not imaginary, but You, Jesus, are stronger.
Bridegroom, Come.