I have shut myself up tight. Avoiding the touch of the Father. avoiding the touch of any who might ask of me more than I feel I am able to give. Because it's true. I am unable. I am weak. But then it's not about me anyway. Is it? Retorhical question. Jesus wants to use the weak and barely willing to reach and heal and bless and build up the broken. He will use my crawling when I cannot stand to demonstrate none of us are good enough. Strong enough. Only He in us lies the victory.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
It's the being open that matters. Folks will tell you, "God picked you for this tough task because He knows you are strong enough.. Nope, pretty sure not. God uses the very weakest to pour His strength into. I'm thinking we are not expected to be whole enough to hold or contain His mighty strength; just open to receive it... So if it spills. Leaks. Overflows out the top of my tiny heart. So be it. I am not solitary. The strength will be used by Him who gave it in whatever, over, into whomever is near. It s ok I can't hold it or carry it all. Being open to receive is the matter of if all. What happens to the Spirit of God as it flows through me is not my worry.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
I get it now. In had to experience it first hand. For myself. Feel my heart swell. Melt. Explode with joy. Simple. Thank you Ammie. And for what? A pen. A pen to play Tic Tac Toe. With me.. Thank you. Straight from heart. No pretense. And how blessed was I..
And so, that is the secret. The eurcharisto. The lesson I have stumbled. Tripped. Danced. Over and around for two years. Gratitude. Not for the great and the large. But the simple. Honest. From the heart. The hearing of it blessed me beyond the confines of language. I knew it meant love. The deepest act, expression of love. And I was undone.
So that's it.
It's what He wants. From me. He will receive my thanks as love.
All week I had haggled with myself and with Him to hear the revelation I felt, the lesson i was to learn hear in the sun. It was all about a pen.
Defeated in paradise. I grappled with my tiger wild. biting. Whining. Defiant. Tongue sticking out. Face making. Disrespectful. Did I mention whining. Tantrum throwing boy cubs. Stunned, I felt helpless to reign them in. Here in the sun all the while home frozen and subarctic, life should be beautiful.
My heart longed to be able to impart the obvious. Can't you be grateful.
And while the mediocre coffee gurgled and I grumbled in my heart, longing for a better cup. I saw. I remembered. The pen. The words that followed.
It was the thanking. The pen. The silly pen.
It's what He wants.
Not the grumbling.
And He will receive our love.
And we will have given it. Simply. Purely.
Communion with the Creator of the universe.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
My head and heart are full. Full of the things of life. All the stuff to be done. To think about. All that I am not accomplishing. The pressures I place on myself. Life bangs about in my head like sneakers in a dryer. A heart pounding with too much.
I KNOW their is abounding Grace...I can't find it. Weariness. Grips. My. Soul.
It is the KNOWING that keeps me going. Though. Grace lives. Abounds. With or without my knowledge.