Wednesday, December 23, 2015

I was stuck in the star light, BE STILL near the nightfall, beauty of light descending. I watched as my life rolled past me, suddenly, as if asked for.

As I lay, light splashed over my wrist. The back of my hand rested against my mouth, elbow in the air.

I thought then of the times I spent reading books in childhood, and the thought made my heart almost weep.

I thought of grandpa's swing, his lawn, the acres we never explored, the time we wandered outside, I don't remember what, what we were doing. The way of faint childhood memories.

The time I was mad at my cousin for not playing tag. When I bought the lie as a child that to be angry and mad and unforgiving is to be happy. The opposite is true. Grace snatches the parts of our lives that would have been lost. To forgive, to give, to be grace is to be blessed.

I bought the lie. I had bought the lie this year that friendship was what I needed more than the desert. But it was not true. I knew in my head but not in my heart, though the process was undesirable.

I did not want the desert. Its stark contrast from a time of seeming perfection. I knew what I wanted in life was not what could ever truly make me happy, but I still pursued it all in my heart. I wanted presence of all those I loved and lived for. Yet Who I lived for (not enough) called me deeper.

I had come to the crossroads and needed to decide, that to surrender is to win. To be in the desert is to find your song. to be a songbird is to sing to the King. Times would come when I did not have this anymore. I had to learn that i have to be grateful for the season I am in. There's no way I can change it, so I had to surrender and stop resisting what He had for me. I have to cherish it now, my heart tries to repeat incessantly.

Finally when I began to understand, faintly, trying, etching out a pattern in the light. Things began to come into place. I realized it's not about the location of my body but my heart, how out of alignment my heart was.

I had hated the loneliness, despised the pain, the season. Wished for the ending and longed to play blame. But my troubles were reasons to rejoice, the chaos was reason to find solution and become a problem solver. The awareness of sin and the ache that caused was to keep a cleansing that was to be mine as long as my weak frame does settle this earth.

When do I ever find myself letting God know me? You know, that is all that will ever matter. It would all be waste if at the end of my life Jesus said, "I don't know her." The greatest fear-arousing possibility. (good fear, awe and worship) The terror and wonder and awestruck love it inspires.

Writing helps me breathe, so I continue to write. may it be unappreciated if only life giving to me and pleasing to my Father. Joy exuding, a walk unceasing. Stretching farther than my words extends God's love. Right through me, despite me. Right beside me I see him daily through my sister, through my needs being miraculously met, through so much to thank Him for.

God decided mercy for my life.

His gust blew me. I was of grief, stretched far and wide, my sins entangling me in silence akin to death. His love stretched farther and BROUGHT ME TO LIFE, throughout the questions and silence it awakened a knowing where there had not been one. He took off my guilt and exchanged it for forgiveness. That was all I needed.

Jesus brought ME TO LIFE.

It is in the desert He gives me a song, in the wilderness where He prepares me, to be a voice and not an echo.

You can't be a messenger without a message.

Hosea 2:14-15

'Therefore I am now going to allure her;
I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her.
There I will give her back her vineyards, 
And will make a door of hope.
There she will sing as in the days of her youth,
As in the day she came up out of Egypt.'

I was crowned a queen and never gave up my crown, a systematic pleasure.

You can't be a messenger without a message. I am learning this is what is important: to KNOW Him and be known by Jesus, and after that, to be a voice and not an echo.