Life feels kinda like this right now. A hazy, swirly, complicated.
In part, it feels like the farther I get from ground zero of what catapulted me to state the harder it feels to go back to faith and trusting.
And of course all I hear about is faith.
My heart automatically puts up its thick walls of defense.
It’s hard to trust when you feel like God hasn’t held up His end of a bargain — which of course is a ridiculous concept.
But that’s how it feels.
A friend, who speaks in wisdom to us, says that God is exercising our faith in such a way that it’s in our face. And I feel like this is the case – that He’s standing with His arms woven together across His chest asking me now what, what are you going to do now?
In reality — this same question I’m posing to Him, with my arms knotted.
I wonder if I want to heal. If I want to trust again. Or if this anger it’s just easier, so I build my defense and push away every time I feel wooed.
This is – honestly – harder than I was expecting. I knew it would be hard……but this, this feels excruciating.
I want to take the short road to wholeness, while at the same time exercinging my interpreted right to the way I feel.
Really, I don’t know how to get back to good.
I sat there as she delicately drew lines and swirls on my hand and arm with henna. I was amazed at the intricacy that flowed from her brown hands.
Beauty…sitting across from me and on my left arm.
How quickly these feelings faded as insomnia ripped through my body that night, and quickly drudged up all the anger that had possibly, slowly begun to fade.
I laid on our couch. The glow of the street light out behind, and the nightlights in the kitchen illuminating the anger seething from my heart.
Where had it gone? That happiness I’d felt just a dozen hours earlier.
Where as I had begun the process of re-trusting, and of re-experiencing the grace between Creator and creation, I now screamed.
I fear that if you could see this anger, this distrust that swells my chest and juts out my chin – you would shake your head at me in contempt.
………….or, maybe you wouldn’t.
I wonder at how hard we fall sometimes.
Why we distrust One who is so magnificently in control.
In these handful of days that have past since that sleepless night I still wrestle with the accusations I placed. And I fear them.
They hold power if I allow them to.
But I want to get that place I was at with the beautiful Indian woman creating filigree on my hand. To the place of joy I experienced as we were swamped by the culture of a land our hearts cries for.
I need to remember and believe that He is not looking at me with contempt but with eyes full of tears and a broken heart.
I know I’m gonna have to do this on my own.
……and i know it’s going to take some time.
The healing and the trusting.
Because even re-trusting the One who hand-crafted you can take time.
This space may be a dark a little more often while I wrestle through this season I’ve
found thrown myself in. I shared with a friend that I know healing needs to take place but it isn’t something I want to rush. I want need it to be intentional and deliberate.
If I don’t heal and learn to trust again, I know it will affect future seasons and future breaths.
The words that I can wrestle out that can be shared I will do so. I know that we learn from one another, and while your story won’t be the same as mine, one day…….it may help.
I’m also making some breathing space on twitter. I find myself leaning in too much to social media to find my value and at times it hurts my heart.
Thank you for your patience with me. And humbly I ask for prayer.
Last night I finished reading the Bible.
From the Levitical Law to the the drippings of grace that left an empty tomb.
From in the beginning God spoke creation to the the indwelling of the new heaven and the new earth.
Over the last nine months, I noticed a thread, or perhaps a beautifully woven ribbon throughout the stories of creation, the repeated rise & fall of Israel, the Messiah, the church, and the last days.
Throughout the whole Word, God wove grace. In times where you would expect ungrace you experience grace flavoring the circumstances as salt flavors food.
Father forgiving the son who attempted his murder. Brother forgiving jealous, conniving brothers. Savior forgiving executioners.
Oddly enough, I even find grace in the Law. I see that it was God’s grace to give us the law in order that we would know that we could never stand in His holiness without the grace of the cross.
In grace, God repeatedly sent prophets to the Israelites. Calling for their repentance. And even when He allowed them to be taken into captivity, exiled, warred upon, He – in His grace – rescued them.
I loved that God took the time to show me how grace is not only woven into my life, but into the very existence of all since the creation.
My plan for the remainder of the year is to read Psalms; and at the beginning of the year start reading through chronologically. I trust that as He whispered my OneWord of grace throughout these last several months, He’ll do the same with my word for 2012.
Prudence is a 30-something writer who lives in Arizona with her husband Shawn and their chihuahuas Lengua and Zeus. She writes her life, her experiences and her crawl back to hope. Eventually, she hopes to visit India – a place that’s captured her heart without ever stepping foot on the soil.