Safe Haven

20 Jun 13

I realized yesterday: it’s just a day. And in 24 hours, it’ll be over. So, it’s not that big of a deal. The aching memories associated with the day. They’ll be over and fade a little more by the next year. No tears this year. Just that sad sigh deep in my soul- over the things that never came to be. And that’s okay. A sad sigh for the remembrance of the failure and the lessons learned, more than for the desire to wander down into the past. And today- today it’s just over. And today, today is filled with sticky hands, snotty noses, dirt smeared faces, and loose ponytails. And that’s my normal now. A normal that didn’t fit at first, but now, offers me, daily, the safe haven that was lost in the previous storm. 

Getting Lost

Interesting, how that restless drum that often haunted me to the point of paralyzing fear was also a driving force in other areas of my life. Peace, once so elusive, is the cornerstone of my life these days, and yet, my life is busier than it has been in months. I went away for the long weekend. I turned off my phone and relied on the weather and my own body to tell me such things as when it was time to eat, time to go for a hike, time to do something else. I left the busy behind to explore getting lost. For a few short days, time didn't exist for me. I like a schedule. I like a routine. But the way I find myself (for lack of a better term) is to go get lost.

Christ is the peacemaker of my life. One of my favorite things about camping is getting up before anyone else and having my cup of tea and reading my Bible in front of a newly made campfire- usually created from the smoldering coals left from the night before. That is when the peace is most evident. Having a deer cross not even 10 feet from me to have her breakfast, watching the chipmunks chase each other through the brush, seeing the sun through the leaves, slowly warming the ground and casting sun spots all through the campsite. Stopping and appreciating all these things and many more is a part of what peace is to me.

Since coming home from camping, I have found myself taking my time with things. Life is less hurried. There is less urgency to tackle the mountains of laundry, to return the many items to many stores, to rush. The peace has created a tangible presence inside. When I stop and breathe, I can feel it filling me up. I can feel it calming all my fears- real fears that still haunt me and cause me to ache.

I know how to write about that. I know all the right words to say about fear and pain and running from it. But peace... what can I say about peace that hasn't already been said? It's the type of thing a person has to experience to understand. I have a strong belief that this peace does not exist outside of the love of Jesus. I think a version of it might be able to be found because I know of many people who are filled with a sense of peace. It's an understanding of seeing how unable we are to be the person we want to be and being loved in spite of it. Grace brings the peace. Acceptance of our own fallibility and surrendering our inability to do anything about it brings the peace. The peace comes out of the knowledge that we can be better people by the bodies, minds and spirits God has given us, but ultimately we need Him to become the very truest, "perfect" versions of ourselves. And that knowledge, knowing that I can only do so much before relinquishing to someone greater is what brings me peace. Knowing there is someone stronger, greater and more sustainable than I could ever be, even at my very best. Faith brings the peace.

Trust
Delight
Commit
Be Still

This Place

Today is February 6th. Two years since I started this blog. Two years since that Superbowl that I went to a friend's house and after the game went home and cried. Not because of the score or the game or anything petty like that... but because of the inescapable loneliness that threaten to overtake my life. And today... today, as I watch the sky turn shades of pink in the fading daylight, see the two year old who was only a small baby at this time two years ago, laugh and talk to himself, I know how lucky I am now. And how happy. 

When I moved to Iowa, it was the first place in my life, I found peace. True peace. True release. True surrender. It was the starting point. And now, that peace and surrender are daily companions. And they have led me to a place I never thought I would find or experience. 

I know happiness is fleeting, but honestly, I'm not really a sunshiny cheerful person on the inside. I struggle with many personal demons (don't we all) and struggle against a past that I still feel weighs me down. So, for me to say that I'm happy is something that's on the inside. My happiness isn't just happiness. God is turning my happiness into true joy. That's the place I never thought I'd experience. And now it's all happening... 

Oh, there are many days I still feel at war with myself, but I doubt that will ever vanish in this world. It's more about the fact that I'm learning how to surrender and accept the peace that is making the difference in my life. 

Struggle

I still have more answers to find... in the darkness that is my heart, in the cravings and desires that are my emotions. I still have more answers to find. I care too much about the things that I should know how to let go of because they are out of my control. And I find myself caring too little about the things I might want to care a bit more about. And I still find myself at war with myself. I still find the old habits rear their ugly heads, coupled with the struggle to disregard them make new problems arise out of the ashes of what I thought were issues long resolved. And I feel ill-equipped, once more, to deal with the life choices that are full of emotion- without a manual or a clear cut understanding of how to wrangle with them. My own ignorance and blindness is my greatest downfall.

And so I grapple- with myself- with my own faith, my own beliefs and turn toward God, knowing that he is always the father of the prodigal, despite my ineptitudes, despite my lack of understanding-STILL! I am ever grateful for his patience, as I attempt to relearn the same lessons over and over.

Romans 7:19-25: "For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

Amen.

Beautiful Things

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new
You are making me new

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new


by Gungor

Good

I've taken a long time to try and find answers. I'm still finding them, although it isn't as often as it used to be. I think I might finally have it figured it out. At least to the point of muddling through as a somewhat functioning human being, rather than a cosmic emotional wreck. And the thing I have figured is that I don't have much figured at all. I know what not to do- to the point of being able to make fairly healthy life choices. But... other than that, the things I thought I wanted aren't necessarily the things life is going to give me. And I've come to a place of acceptance about that. About all of them. Some of them I have more peace about (like living in NJ indefinitely) and some I have less peace about (like being a mother). Regardless... life is no longer a daily struggle to survive. I'm aware I have far less control over pretty much everything in my life. And I don't say that in "I've given up" kind of way. I just realize that so much that I concern myself about and worry about is really nothing to perplex myself with.

Love will happen when it's supposed to, in the way that it's supposed to. Grace truly is a way of life and can come from a reservoir of understanding, compassion and love. Trust takes a long time to build. A really long time. New trust. Trust in God, trust in others, trust in self. Once trust has been broken so completely, it takes a lot of love to patch it up again. A lot, a lot, a lot. And time. I've learned that you have to give time time. Think on that. Time has to be given time to work, to pass, to heal.

I'm not sure how much I'll be writing anymore. It's gotten less and less over the last few months. I don't feel like I'm fighting for answers to rebuild life anymore. I don't feel like I'm scraping by, living life in crisis anymore. I haven't felt in crisis for a very long time. I've felt this way for a while. Like the answers I'm supposed to have found for this chapter in my life have been found. Or at least overturned and brought to light. Life isn't in shambles anymore. Life is beautiful- in the broken places, in the reworked places, in the grace filled places- which is nearly all of it. And that, that is good. 

Sometimes...

Sometimes I forget the promises of that morning on the beach. The way the waves crashed into the shore, like his love overwhelming my heart.  Sometimes I forget that afternoon when he soothed my soul, after I yielded to his voice. Sometimes I forget all the answers he gave when I sought them. Sometimes, I forget.

Sometimes, I wish I could generate on the spot the way my spirit feels when he speaks to me so directly and bluntly. The way the weight lifts and I am so aware of the fact that I’m not alone. I don’t think everyone experiences God this way. It’s amazing. It’s engulfing and overpowering. It makes everything else fade away.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, a part of me is back on that beach, with its silence and unadulterated perfection. With only the birds on the surf’s edge and the waves rolling in, white with foam. Sometimes, I feel the least lonely when I am alone. When I choose to be alone and seek only God. I wish I could be back there on that morning, when I woke up at 5:30 a.m. without a reason, except to go to the beach to watch the sunrise. To relish in the promises of a new day. I know my life would be vastly different if I took time each morning to watch the sun come up over the horizon and also watch it as it slunk below the line across the sky.

Sometimes, I ache to be back there, with the sand, the warmth, the soft wind, the sticky feel of sunscreen… I miss it. Everyone aches for vacation when they are not on it, but rarely does anyone ache for reality when one is on vacation. Funny, how that is.

So for now, this is one of the sometimes… one of those times that I long to close my eyes and be on that beach in the cool of the morning, before the sand has turned hot and toasty and is cool and smooth as I run it through my fingers, oh so very slowly. I feel as though today is like the walk back to the motel where there, on the balcony, my companion waited, sipping coffee, watching the cars race by. Today is that walk, rather than the quiet reflection on the beach that calmed my weary, emotionally stretched heart. Today is the return to reality, rather than the promises so vividly revealed through the sun streaming through the wispy clouds of doubt. Today, I have to remember harder than before, so I can still sense the assurance of his possibilities.