a willingness to surrender

Sometimes things happen that aren't a result of our weakness or inabilities. It isn't that we aren't good enough for the job or the promotion.

It could be that it just wasn't right for us, at the time.

Hardship happens and it isn't fair. 

Life seems easier for some people; they seem more blessed.

(And thank God for that because I'd have to give up an awful lot to get a little more even with some people who have what seems like absolutely Nothing.)

The hard truth is that *easy* lacks depth. 

When my groom and I have a challenging moment and we're caught in the headwind of a brutal storm, there have been moments when I have been grateful for the ways the winds brought us together.

Hunkered down with no place to run, it feels like fleeing is our better choice. Yet, our protection from the storm is in our closeness--in our staying through the weathering.

Where we're willing to talk and not run away is like the eye of the storm--a thin place where we're able to see more clearly as life *whirls and twirls* around us.

We always seem stronger after storms.

The remnants of the winds are reminders of the raging threat to our lives, and our togetherness--our life--is a reminder of Grace.

I've a friend who has had many storms in her young years of marriage. She's questioned God and she's teetered on giving up. Her heart has tried to trust and she's felt shaky in her faith.

There have been times when I've felt so strongly that maybe running away from the storm would be better for my friend.

I've forgotten that running can be deadly.

Through surviving incredible history-making storms, I've come to see that there is Purpose. There is blessing. There is Grace. 

Storms have this amazing ability to bring people together in the most amazing ways. Hearts open wide and reveal raw fear, and in that place of sheer terror for the gusts that seem to threaten life itself, trust is in the slight flicker of a candle--the Light that makes staying more bearable.

With rains pouring down, there's safety in the walls where there's togetherness.

This friend of mine has held her breath through howling winds of one bad choice after another and trudged through mucky waters of financial disaster--the residual of storms that have hardly seemed tropical.

My friend has lived to tell the story.

All along she's been blessed. Enormously.

She's seen evidence of God's provision in the seemingly least likely of places. She's given thanks for the bread she's eaten, each piece savored as though it might be her very last. And though grey skies and flood warnings continue to prevail, she will grow even still.

There are incredible things we learn through living a Storm.

Sometimes, the beauty that grows is most appreciated by those who have seen entire lands wiped clean and feared there couldn't possibly ever be life grown there again.

When life blooms anyway and harvests are bountiful where it seemed nearly impossible, there is enormous thanksgiving--a sharing of the story of how it came to be. This is beautiful, living worship.

Storms challenge Courage to rise up to insurmountable depths. 

Hearts that have had replacements are the ones often times most appreciated. The ones that have been compromised and threatened are the ones most counted as blessed.

The truth is that all hearts are blessed.

Sometimes we just need to be willing to surrender every bit of our land for our *living* to grow. 

Even if a new job seems like the {nearly perfect} forecast for our days, it could be that the rain and togetherness in the storm is what we need most.
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what if the blessing is the *no*?

For a long time I've had an ache, a *longing* that has been so painful.

I've written about it.  I've talked about it. I've prayed about it.  And I've even asked for it go away.  Yet, the ache is for what I thought was God's plan - a vision from Him.

How would I be patient in the waiting?  

The waiting was is hard.  It was is painful.  I began to want it more and more.  Until, it was simply too much of a want.  Then, I asked for the desire to go away.

God answered.  No longer did I want all the responsibilities that would come along with the *longing* coming true. Yet, my heart still had room for the blessing, if it would come to be.  The ache vision {seemed to} remain(ed), even in spite of my mind saying no, thank you.

What does a person do with what appears to be a vision?  What does she do with an ache, a *longing* that she can't make go away - that He doesn't take away - until He does, and the vision remains.

How does she continue to believe in Someone who she cannot physically see, and yet she does see in so many ways?  How does she continue trusting when it seems so obvious the vision won't come to be?  

I've been wrestling in a big way.  Last week I even dared to utter the words, I hate you, to the God who created me and you, and this whole wide world.  I didn't want to believe any more, and yet I did.  I felt tortured.

In the pain of the ache, I am drawing ever nearer to God in the most amazing ways.  His ways are higher than mine.  He wants what's best for me.  And this, this ache, I'm seeing - it's good for me because it draws me to Him.

I think if He answered my *longing* perhaps I wouldn't be this close to Him, and that scares me.

I am at a crossroads right now.  Trust in this ache, or...

I can't think of another option.  All roads lead to Him.  I cannot move without Him providing breath, and He has become so evident in every thing.

So, I live on.  

This life - everything about this life I have - is for great purpose.  Everything that happens has great meaning.  Deep significance.  My life has been blessed and continues to be blessed, and I believe today that the hard times like the aching of my heart, is really one of the greatest blessings ever.  How it brings me closer to His love, and so much more.

Through walking this vision I've come to places I wouldn't have otherwise.  I've come to acceptance of God's will, and to seeing His goodness in Every. Thing.

I am receiving Grace for myself and living without chains that I only thought were bound to me out of deservedness.

I am seeing I deserve this {Grace} full *life* and to live wholly and uniquely me, because He made me this way - not because of anything I did or didn't do. I am learning to trust Him.

All along in my living with this ache in my heart, I've feared.  I've feared what if it isn't true?  I wonder why I feared.  Did I think - Then what?  How will I live?  What will come of my purpose?  I don't think so.  But, perhaps.

I've pondered the *why* of my ache and came face-to-face with my sorrows and grief, and my sadness and shame.  I've wanted to atone for my choices and to tangibly see - to believe - that nothing is wrong with me.

I have a voice that wasn't there prior to this *longing.*  And in walking through this valley of *longing* - of aching for a vision I thought was God-placed - I've seen things I wouldn't have otherwise.  And it's brought me to here.  To the writing.  To seeing *my* God-carved-heart.  And to sharing with people who I wouldn't have otherwise shared with.

Perhaps in the aching I've been used to touch some one else's heart.

The other day I wrote a post intended to be for my groom. God has brought that post back to the forefront of my mind in a powerful way.  Because He wrote that post.  Not me.  He reminds me of the words - that my life {still} has purpose and meaning, even if my greatest *longing* never comes to be.

For all of these blessings I unwrap today, I give thanks.