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.

waiting it out

Today, I don't want God to answer my prayer.  I want to give up on believing that the ache I have is His promise.

Being a mother is hard.  I'm flailing around and seeing my own failures.

Today, I don't want to do *it* again.  One child is hard enough, today.

Quickly, I *see* that He's brought me to the here and now - to where we're learning piano, and I see my tendency to try so hard, reaching for perfection.

I haven't had the opportunity to be tested in this way for quite awhile.
 
I've gotten to Just. Love. Give. Grace.

I've seen Him in the {soft} and {gentle} reactions that come from me - broken, angry, scared, imperfect me.  I've made the seat at my heart available to the boy-man anytime he longs to be close.  I've given him my heart and he's found love.

I haven't done the homework-thing day in and week out, and I don't do the discipline-thing {very often}.  These roles have been filled by the boy's daddy - the leader in our home - and he's so much better at it.

I have just gotten to shower gentleness upon this child, and encourage my groom to be gentler, too.

Now, though, we're doing piano together - the boy and me.  And his instructor tells me not to tell him to do something, instead to ask him questions just like she does.  I ask her the goal.  She says understanding.

And I try with all my might to have him perfectly understand.  I try with all my might to perfectly help him just like she does.

I fail at the perfect-thing.  And I flail.  I want to give up.  I haven't felt this badly about myself in a long time.  I *see* the ugliness is still there.  And it hurts.

This morning I went to my Father for guidance on how to do the practicing part of the piano with the boy.  How, Father?  How can we have fun?  How can we enjoy it?  How we do it in-joy?  Will he forgive me?  Have I wounded and crushed his spirit?  Will you heal him, Father?  

Show me.  Because I just want to walk away.

I want to walk away from this piano-thing and never look back.

So much of me wants to walk away from this parent-thing some times.  But, I won't.

Today, though, I think I can't possibly have another.  I can barely handle this.

But, I can't help this ache inside of me.  This longing that just believes what He told me is true - that we'll have another child and that I'll be a mother to a girl.  I can't help it.

It hurts to wait.  

It hurts to really, truly believe that He has this as part of His plan and to wait it out.

And yet, I sense Him telling me that the now - the pain, the ache, the hard-to-hold-on moments - is all part of the process in His plan.

It hurts.  So. Much.

Today, I don't want another child.  I don't want this ache.  I don't want to long for another baby any more.  I want it to end.  I just want to be happy with today, and it's hard to even do that.

Mothering is hard.  Parenting is hard.  Marriage is hard.

I know...throw myself a pity-party.  But, it's true!  And I don't know a single person who would disagree.  Parenting isn't always fun.  It's down-right hard.

Tell me I'm complaining and I'd agree that I am.  Say what you want about me.  It's all probably true.

Still though, I'm incredibly grateful for this life He's given me - a {Grace} full *life* - to be called Mama and to be a bride, to learn from my groom and all of our differences, and to learn how to love and accept him unconditionally.

I couldn't be more grateful, I think.

Joy spills out of me.

Yet, it's hard.  And I want to get off of this ride.  My tummy aches at the pain of the waiting.  I doubt in His goodness.  And I doubt in His love.

And there - just out of the blue - appears this answer: For purpose.

When I don't want to do it because it's hard, but I really feel as though it's His plan, I trust Him more because I know - I know there is purpose...even when it doesn't make sense.

He gives me test after test, patiently giving me His time to learn more about {trusting} Him.

letting it all go

We all long for things.  Calling it hopes and dreams sounds so much prettier than chasing after the wind.  Yet, it's the wind we sometimes chase.

I've made years-full of plans, and I've counted months, weeks, days and even hours.  All the while longing for things that aren't right-now.

Finally, I've gotten to a place {at least for now} where I am tired of longing for what isn't evident right before me.  I'm unbelievably tired.

It's a scary thought - letting go of the longing.  Yet, I'm not sure why.  There isn't anything I'm holding on to, really.  Just images that aren't a real part of today.  And so, really, there's nothing there when I open up my hands to release.

(Except, it feels like there is something there.)

It feels like there are rooms to my heart - spaces that hold things - and when I clean out those rooms and release their contents, I'm not sure I'll ever get them back.  Even if the images are from God, if He hasn't brought them into these days {yet}, there isn't anything to get back.  

(I let my heart settle on this.)

There really aren't rooms in my heart that have spaces to hold real things.  Tangible things don't live inside my heart.  And holding on to these things doesn't mean that by claiming them they are mine.

It's a huge realization.

The letting go of thinking I have an ounce of control is so freeing.  

My shoulders feel less tense and my jaw less like a vice grip.  Suddenly my heart is able to *see* in the most amazing ways.  Where eyes weren't literally placed, sight is given - to the joys that make the heart beat.

Today's gifts get unwrapped and not overlooked when we're able to *see*.

And so, I'm just letting it all go...the need for control, and to know, and for everything to be the way I think is the right way.  I'm collapsing my fears and worries, and breathing in energy and alertness for the moments that are before me, in my immediate purview.

My Father who created me isn't cruel.  He's a good God who wants the best for me - His best.  I'm thinking a lot about this lately and walking more in trust of His ways.

Help me to surrender, God...to let it all go into your hands...