when i'm restless {again}...

i am slowly learning to not fear those moments when i feel restless.


those moments that tend to sidle up next to me,

cozy on close and take me by surprise.


it's those moments that tend to leave me feeling weak,

grasping for anything to grab on to

so that i can find my footing again.


i used to hate those moments.


because i didn't see them for what they are.

a society that denies the supernatural usually ends up elevating the natural to supernatural status... c.s. lewis uses the phrase "sweet poison of the false infinite" to describe this...tendency in the human species. we allow substitute sacred, or false infinites, to fill the vacuum of our disenchanted world. 

alone of all the beasts, the human animal has the power and freedom to center life in one impulse. we have not, it seems, the power to abstain from worship. (dostoyevsky had predicted this in his novel The Possessed: "the one essential condition of human existence is that man should always be able to bow down before something infinitely great. if men are deprived of the infinitely great they will not go on living and die of despair. the Infinite and the Eternal are as essential for man as the little planet on which he dwells." simone weil adds, "one has only the choice between God and idolatry. there is no other possibility. for the faculty of worship is in us, and it is either directed somewhere into this world, or into another.")

philip yancey

could it be,

(and it could be that i am a little slow on the grasping of this truth...)

that the moments were i feel the most restless,

when my hands are grasping 

and i am longing for anything to satisfy the longings in my heart

that it is then that i'm longing for Him the strongest?


instead of turning to what brings temporary comfort,

can i find ultimate rest in the worship of Jesus?


tomorrow is sunday and i'll stand with other believers and worship The One Who has captured my heart.

i will hear strong words that speak of a strong and loving God and my spirit will be fed.


but what of those moments, those hours, those days when i am not surrounded by tangible reminders of His Truth?

when, in the quiet, i feel my losses acutely and i want to make the pain go away.

what then?


has He lifted the veil a touch this evening,

allowed me to catch a glimpse of His movement in the quiet places deep in my spirit i rarely tend to go?

{God} delights, it seems, in using trees, flowers, rivers, automobiles, friends, enemies, church buildings, paintings in order to announce His presence or to work out His purposes...there is something crude in the depiction of God intervening directly in the play, the clumsy deus ex machina interrupting the speeches of the other actors and upsetting the stage. how much more tantalizing the God Who hints and lurks and cajoles hiddenly through and around the actors, even unbeknownst to them. it is the humble God who chooses so to act.

robert barron

i don't need to fear that restlessness that tempts me to search for anything else but Him...because it's His Voice that is drawing me, turning my ear to find the Source of that longing i feel;

and causing me to bow low in worship before The One Who opens these eyes to the many ways that He relentlessly pulls me into relationship with Himself...

lessons in the messy...

he comes home to find me a mess.

packages of chicken thighs that normally hold a set amount all wrapped up in prepackaged plastic are each missing one and they need to be in the oven five minutes ago.


the floor that i had vacuumed at 10 was a disaster again by 4

the children that had been shouting all morning were now full on fighting

and my last nerve

was

being

stretched

very

thin.


he walks in the door to find his wife barely holding it together.


or maybe,

if i'm to be honest,

not holding it together at all.


he walks into the kitchen and stands in my way.

on purpose.

won't budge from that spot as i try and force my way around him,

exhaling loudly

and sighing impatiently

and biting my lip so i don't cry.


he knows this.

because he knows me.

and he keeps standing there.




he knows why i'm about to fall apart.


the microwave beeps

and the third package of chicken is laid down and pulled apart.

i oil and stuff and salt and pepper and place them on that rack

and set them all into the oven.


and that's when he says something,


they put their pants on this morning one leg at a time,


just like us.


and i want to laugh and cry and i did a little bit,

because it's true.


in this year hollowed out and named new

i was trying to stuff it up full with the hurt from the old...


i forgot that what He spoke in the dark of the first month

can still apply in the chaos of the second.


that when He asks us to abide, we can trust that He knows 

and those new roads He leads us on have been traveled by His feet first.


it's safe to trust Him...

even when you are scared to.

even when you have been hurt before.

even when the landscape around you leaves you feeling disorientated at the oddest of times.


He is trustworthy.


and even if you have lost it all

but you still have Him...


you have Everything.

and those new roads through those new places?

they lead closer to Him...

indeed i count everything as loss because of the surpassing

worth of  knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. for His sake i have suffered the loss

of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that i 

may gain Christ, and be found in Him...

philippians 3:8-9a

when He woos a heart already His own...

He woos me on valentines day.


He doesn't have to.

He has already won my heart.

this heart that has a tendency to burn so hot and freeze ice cold.


maybe that is a reason He keeps drawing me to Himself,

closer to the heat of His Love,

so that i'll burn with the wonder of Him again.


it happens after i repeat the words from memory that i have been planting deep.

speak them out loud to the one who calls me daughter while my 3 little ones listen close.

six weeks in and twelve verses rolling with a rhythm off of this tongue,

i turn that page to the thirteenth one as the house settles and quiets

and i look at the words held in these hands.


i can't help but stare at this valentine He has given.

because no matter how one looks at it, it is exactly what it is.


it's no i choo-choo-choose you written on red and placed on a school-girl's desk.

no.

it's been written in red and offered up to anyone who will receive.

for He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness

and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves,

in Whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

colossions 1:13-14

i lay my head next to tony's in the quiet.

look into his eyes and see him for who he really is.

i reach out my fingers and trace his lips.

this man who gave up everything for me, for our family.

this man who gave up job, reputation, income, home...

gave it all up so that we could live out from under the shadow of death and brokenness.


he gave it all up for the love of the ones under this roof over our heads.


and He woos me,

through the love of my husband that reflects His Own so powerfully;

through His Words printed on paper and planted deep in my heart.


and it was those fairy tales and stories that i stopped believing in so long ago,

but it is the truth and beauty of His Love that quickens my heart and catches my breath now.


and it's through both:

the shadow of dreams and tales juxtaposed next to

the Truth of His Love,

that i have learned...


a heart caught in the stranglehold of distress need never fear.

can your spirit hear it? 


The One named Faithful and True is fighting for you...

when it's ripped and torn...

i hold the pages in my hands and look at the rough edges,

the ones that i've just ripped out of an old and musty copy of pride and prejudice.

elizabeth and mr. darcy lay mixed up and out of order on that counter of mine,

and i can't help but smile.


it's kind of how life is sometimes.


lyla and olivia have helped me glue hearts and buttons on torn and cut pages of a love story they haven't even heard of.

but they are plastering love all over the place 

and that they can understand.

and it's in the early hours of a late evening that i string together what has been cut and torn and broken apart.

i lift high pages filled with words of love and secure them to our walls with pins that catch the light.


and i think of my story

and maybe your own...


what has been broken,

ripped apart,

torn right open?


what has left you feeling laid bare and completely and utterly out of order?

does it all feel like more than a little touch of chaos is swirling around you?

i felt Him near in those moments that found me pressing twine into glued pages,

sensed His Love move through those places still raw and aching with grief...

sometimes, it's in taking a step back,

taking a moment to catch a glimpse of the torn and the hurt placed side by side and held together with His Love that we can see...

each hard moment,

each quiet moment,

each moment that He has given,

is placed against the story of His Love for me.

for you.


so we can release what feels chaotic,

painful,

broken,

ripped and raw

and give it all to the One Who knows how to make it into something beautiful

so that we can stand confidently underneath it all and say with hope, joy,

and confidence in Him Who is able to do more than we could ever hope or imagine,

...His banner over me is love.  

song of songs  2:4

and so i count the ways...

1235. a message i needed to hear

1236. rest

1237. the last 30 minutes before their bedtime

1238. elias being comforted

1239. two friends laughing

1240. tony as he sleeps

1241. a new name

1242. the valentine lyla drew for me

1243. His Words that strengthen

1244. a lost toy found

1245. olivia's neck-crushing hugs

1246. kissing elias' chin

1247. a new cabinet

1248. that "bed" for cookie to sleep on

1249. cold toes

1250. a moment to breathe deep

1251. a friend on the front step

1252. those carnations

1253. becky's signature colour

1254. my dress

1255. broken birds

1256. super glue fixes

1257. serving plates that remind this heart of her's.

1258. that tall latte

1259. the right gift given
1260. words that memorize easily

1261. tickling elias

1262. tickling olivia

1263. tickling lyla

1264. lost shirts found

1265. lyla reading

1266. deep sleep

1267. realizing sundays are hard

1268. what He reveals when my heart is examined in the quiet

1269. a lost cellphone found

when it's not very loud...

i have stood on a frozen field with my face lifted up to a night sky alive and dancing with the blues and greens and purples of the northern lights.

and i have felt the awe of Him.


i have stood on the edge of the land beneath my feet and felt the crash of the waves of an ocean pounding deep.

and i have been shaken with the proof of His power.

i have listened to the wind whip itself into a frenzy, watched the black clouds above me swirl and green and form into the beginnings of a funnel that has one seeking safety.

and i have wondered for His mercy.

i have laid my body down 3 times and listened as another's heartbeat deep within me has filled the air that surrounds me.

and i have known Him as Creator.

but.

it's when harsh words have been loudly spoken,

when one of us is firmly planted in the hall,

the other braced in against the kitchen sink,

and pain flying in all that space between...


when i find myself on the floor of our closet,

tears pouring down and i hear that door open...


when he lowers himself

and brings us both to the same level;

when he says those words that break through the ice,

reaches out his hands,

asks me to look into his eyes,

and we forgive each other...


it's in those moments,

the ones void of lights and noise and movement...

the simple ones

that i come to know Him as

Healer,


Redeemer,

Friend.


and He is there

and so intimately close

in the hush of a gentle whisper...

when the reminder needs to be revisited...

and it's been a whole year since we left our yellow house, 


and our life 


behind.

packed it all up and stepped out into the complete and open unknown.


it's been a whole year and a little bit more and still, in a sunny room in the early hours of this morning, she grieves.


and it takes me back to that night, the one 12 months and 9 days ago and as i hold her close, i remind her of where her tears are kept until He can wipe them all away...


all three had been tucked in and prayed over.  lights had been turned out and night-lights had been switched on.  lullabies had been sung and kisses pressed against sleepy-sweet skin.

i walked out of the last room and headed up the stairs.


an hour later, she was still whimpering, still trying not to cry...

tony came near and asked me to go in and talk with her..

.she needed me.

i climbed onto her bed, the one cocooned under another and brought my face close to hers.


mama, what's wrong with me?  




i looked down at my girl, the one who would be one whole hand in 3 short days and i felt it, the bracing against the question...


mama, what is wrong with my heart?  why is it hurting?

olivia climbed up too, curled herself into my lap, reached out her hand to stroke lyla's face like i was.  unsure of the why but knowing that comfort was needed.


oh baby...you heart is hurting because you miss home. your heart misses your friends and your pink and orange and brown room and everything that felt familiar.  




the wail that followed the explanation was unexpected, but needed.  she needed to get the feelings out.

so we held her, olivia and i.  we held her and wiped her tears and let her cry and cry and cry...


she looked into my eyes, several long moments later...like she did the first time i held her in my arms. when she blinked up at me, unfazed by the bright hospital lights that greeted her entrance.  that first moment when she experienced her first separation...


and i knew, He wanted me to speak words of life into her.

and so i grasped at the only ones my mind held ready,

You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears

in Your bottle. are they not in Your book?

psalm 56:7

and her eyes, the ones i have loved since the moment i first gazed into them, grew big and full of wonder,

is it a big bottle?

she placed her ear over my heart, relaxing to the cadence of a steady beat that whispers out a rhythm of love for her as i spoke the words over her sleepy head...words that every hurting heart desperately needs to hear,

the Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

psalm 34:18

and her eyelids grew heavy and olivia sagged in my arms and i brought blankets up around chins and kissed noses and rested my hands on curled backs and prayed.  

thankful that childish tears and pain are so easily soothed by a tender word, a soft kiss and gentle back-rub.  thankful that we still have each other, that comfort is still sought and so easily given.  thankful for hearts that love strong and deep.

and i wonder why and when does pain become too big and too much to be soothed by the tender word from a loving God.  when did i lose that child-like trust that i can take all of my hurts to the Creator of the world He placed me in and believe and know that He would take care of it...of me?

so, i turn my ear to find His heartbeat.  the Heart that loved me enough to stop beating for three days so that mine could beat full for Him...

(edited repost)

when it's faint and fading...

i was thirteen the first time i met her.

i walked down the hallway that seemed to go on forever,

walked on wood floors that creaked with each step,

passed rooms filled with files and files and files of black notes on white paper...

as music swirled out in the air above and below me from rooms with doors closed 

and voices hushed.


her studio was at the very end of the hall.

and with an old sofa pushed up against that plaster covered wall,

i waited there for my lessons to begin.


small,

diminutive,

reserved, 

a spinster...

she terrified me.


i read of dietrich in the evenings,

in the quiet moments that appear throughout the day...

and maybe it is reading of the setting of germany,

of the beauty under all that pain that has me pulling out schumann.

his music from his Album fur die Jugend, Opus 68  fills our home and as my fingers find their way over those keys i've known most of my life,

elias races his cars

 in 

and around

and through

my moving fingers.

and it's as i look up for that next measure when i see those words in pencil;

the ones that she would lean over my shoulder to jot down,

the ones placed to remind me of how the music was supposed to sound.


and now,

even now,

she reminds me...

that woman who had dedicated her life to Jesus and her music,

the one whose piano i haven't sat at since i turned 17,

she still teaches me to play pianissimo,

to shape a piece of music that draws out the emotion behind each note,

and to count when i lose my way.

i hold the very Word of God in hands made of dust,

words jotted down by men whom He used to show us His Heart,

His Way.


He teaches me how to live in the words that i read,

that sink deep and change my heart if i let it...

through words written thousands of years ago,

He shows me how to return when i've lost my way.

and it's in the markings of a pencil,

faint and fading with time,

that she teaches me to still...

and to live out my life with the beauty of what The Composer intended...