late September

Why are you afraid?

It’s 3am and I’m not asleep, the Word document glaring bright white in the darkness of my room, filled with words that I hope will give me some sort of clarity as I spill them out.

Are you really afraid, or are you just remembering?

I see, feel, smell, remember something and bite my lip as the back of my throat reminds me that if I keep this up I will cry any second. I’m crying so easily these days, and in front of people! I never used to be able to do that. I guess a chord has been struck. I feel everything more deeply and genuinely than I did before. And I’ll admit that sometimes I kind of like it. To be able to connect with what I’m actually feeling so quickly. I couldn’t always do that. I’m especially thankful for the genuine part. I so admire genuine people, and I desperately want to be one. But sometimes it's really hard, because remembering’s hard.

The ways it was beautiful, mixed in with all the ways it wasn’t.

I know I found "a good thing” “there in the rubble of the heart that died.” I cried as God in His compassion showed me over and over again how beautiful and right things really are. I remember when I realized that He was heaping blessing on me even as I was running from Him. It's just that sometimes, I forget.

Are you really afraid, or have you just forgotten?

Isn't God so patient with us, even when we forget what He's done, and what He's doing? What is it that you need to remember today?  

And then there's the beauty – the beauty of what’s coming someday. My heart leaps, and I think to myself, I want it, I want it so badly, and I think I'm finally ready.

It's late September, and the air is crisp and clear, carrying pieces of the past and an expectancy for tomorrow, whispering nostalgia and shouting newness. And I’m just breathing it all in, remembering, and waiting.
 

 

just trust me

"It's mine." I whisper, as I hold my dream behind my back for no one to see, and no one to take.

Oh, but He sees, and He could take it away in a second. In fact, He's the one that's really holding it anyway. I like to consider it to be in my hands, but that really isn't very true.

"Dear One,"  He speaks softly, "I have something so much better for you. But you have to let go of that thing you're holding first."

 I bristle at the thought and take a few steps back. I consider running but I know I have no place left to go. At least not any place worth going.

"But,"  I start, barely speaking above a whisper, "if you take this, I'll have nothing left. I'll be alone."

"Will you?"  He kneels before me, gets right on my level. "Am I going somewhere?"

I don't have an answer. I just cling to my dream, heavy in my hands behind me.

"Am I not enough?"  He looks me straight in the face, and I can hardly keep His gaze.

"You are."  I stammer. "It's just that I... I want this. How am I supposed to let go? How can I know you won't forget me?"

"I promise you, Dear One. I will never forget you."

I slowly bring my dream out from behind me and hold it close to my chest. It feels lighter than it did before, now that it's in front of Him. I try to loosen my grip and whimper, "But I love it, God."

He reaches out his hand and speaks three words: "Just trust me."

 

 

 

 

 

 

comfort foods

I wrote this a few days ago. I haven't posted a piece like this in a while. Here's to beauty and honesty in the every day....

The thunder cracked outside my window, and I smiled. It was a comforting sound today. It felt good to know the weather was dreary and aching, just like me. I couldn't have handled a sunny day when everything inside me was the contrary.

Good questions via Facebook chat at 11pm last night. Good, hard questions. Is this really what you want? Is this really how you would want this to start out? Haven't you been through this before?

Work emails at 2pm. Something inside me shudders and shies away. Why? Don't I love this?

Apple pie goes in the oven. I bought it three weeks ago as a backup for something else, but never used it. Today it's the perfect fit, as it's no longer hot enough outside to cook eggs on the sidewalk, and the oven won't make the house painfully warm. I break every rule I know and listen to a favorite Christmas song. I'm longing for December.

I'm longing for comfort today, aching in the waiting and the wanting. I'd forgotten what it feels like, to make a hard decision, to be alone alone, not just pseudo alone.

To say no to the things that keep me from truly letting go. To jump.

Leaping into a season of walking by myself. I've done it before, but never like this. Never of my own will.

Chicken, rice, and pie on the stove. Comfort foods. Today, I'll take it.