a Rock for Him: lookatmeish

It's the time of year.

Filthy.

Saturated.

Messy.

Sloppy.

Dusty.

Dirty.

And that's how I feel.

A washing is coming. But first this filth.

He's bringing it all to the surface now.

What was once covered over like snow -- with pretty and clean and fun -- is now becoming exposed and awakened.

I'm becoming aware of what I really want, what I really pine for.

Idols. Mostly of self.

And I'm confessing a lot these days. About what I've tried to control as I've entertained myself with my pretending to be *in* control.

Truth is pouring out all over my carefully crafted mask. It's wrecking my paper mache life.

I crave Real, and yet I don't choose courage to live it.

I long for true friends. Ones who just come over. Ones to laugh with. Ones our families like and want to spend time with.

I wonder when someone will sweep off their clutter and carve out time for us.

So I sometimes make things happen. I craft dinner gatherings and make plans.

My plan-making is all with a selfish attempt for closeness, to create relationship. Yet, I know I can't always make things happen. And schedules keep us disconnected.

And really, it's me who keeps us disconnected because I fear. While I long to be noticed, I also run and hide. I am afraid of being too much or not enough.

Still, I want that. I want Real. I want relationship.

Really, I want to believe my sloppy and dirty self was really created for purpose.

I long for acceptance. And freedom.

I crave affirmation because, really, I'm a doubting wanderer.

Yet in my idol-living to fill all the gaps of my soul, I have missed out on the truth that my longing can be satisfied right where I am.

A dozen years ago I stood at an altar with sunshine streaming through windows that it nearly blinded him.

I clearly remember hearing a voice speak inside my heart, as if parting the chaos and fear:

I am giving you this man to show you my love for you.

It wasn't long before pride muddied the waters of my vision. I stopped seeing Him through him.

Addicted to the mirror, I would entertain thoughts of being the fairest one of all.

Eventually I dismissed that he could possibly have a vision, a hope, a dream.

His love runs deep, though. For me and for my groom. You see, He didn't want me to live that way for long. Neither of us. And though 12 years seems like a long time, to Him it's just a blink of an eye. His time isn't like ours.

These days, the confessing is breaking the hardened mud of my lookatmeish life.

As dirty and filthy and as I am in my entertaining and charade-living ways, I am accepted just as I am. I'm starting to really believe it as I bravely toss out my costumes and mirror.

And I'm noticing him, right between the bedsheets, one hand away from me -- Grace. Just waiting for me to receive.

Thank you, Father, for the uncovering of the filth.