an unsettled aching

Yesterday I complained about the busyness of living.

I made a comment about how next year I'd like to go away to a beach between December and January, with just a notebook and a pen.

It was a deliberate and specific thought--a grasping for rest and seclusion. An opportunity to just reflect.

It was a thought that a friend responded to with advice, that maybe I should forgo the cookie-making and hire someone to wrap my gifts.

She is right, letting go of some of the items on my To-Do list is good.

But, the struggle I'm feeling isn't with all that I have to do.

: : :

Recently I've talked a lot about one word--See.

It is a word that has described my relationship with God, who I now truly See as my Father. It's a perspective change.

A fantasy-superhero-god becomes a very real, personal being.
A relationship develops.

Sure, I believing in God is critical to receiving peace. But, really Seeing how He is in everything, and how personal He is, that changes so much. It's a steady focusing  out the blur that clouds our perspective.

As I've Seen Him and unwrapped His Grace, moment-by-blessed-moment, an aching has overwhelmed me.

I've rested into His presence and received His incredible peace.
And, I've longed for more.

The truth is, we were made for more than this.

More than parents...
More than workers...
More than spouses...
More than givers...

More than accomplished success stories.

: : :

I have watched my son be challenged musically. An appreciation for something has been stretched. He has begun to See how he is capable of so much more than he can imagine.

Sometimes as I See, my pride creeps up and I idolize self. 

Though I give thanks to Him and reference the strength He gives, fear that of not being good enough propels me to try even harder than I am expected. Pressure on self becomes my focus.

His peace tells me not to strive so hard--Just. Rest.

In the resting, I thirst for Him more than this world could ever satiate.

: : :

This Christmas season the pretty lights aren't doing it for me. Sure, they are pretty to look at. But, they still leave me with the anxious feeling that a full schedule does to me. Life still goes on this season, as much as I wish it would slow.

I long for slow. I long for true Rest.

He uses the busy to draw me to Him.

I've ached and longed in selfish ways. I've thought about my wish-list and how it isn't being answered. And I've been humbled to think that perhaps His greatest mercy is my check-list of prayers unanswered.

Hope isn't what we imagine. 
     It's so much greater than we can even dream.

Thinking I've hoped, I have only just barely scratched the surface.

When moments in the *whirl and twirl* of life bring me to a sudden halt as I See Him, and an ache for more leaves me unsettled, I tend to get grumpy instead of grateful.

In the unwrapping and receiving of grace,
     I. See.
          I. Thirst.
               I. Ache.

: : :

Fall into these moments as they come, friends. 
And choose gratefulness for them.

He is not a hurried, forceful, laser-focused God.
He is slow and steady.

Choose grace for others around you who hustle and bustle blindly.
Choose grace for yourself as you ache with an unsettledness.

There's purpose in this.

Longing for peace in the hurried, I heard this song on the radio and was overwhelmed by the truth of it. Rich blessings to you as you listen. 

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a God-breathed life

Reading in the morning quiet, I feel a prompting.

I turn on the Christmas lights so I can see the sparkle from the road as I arrive home from my pre-dawn run. And also for the Boy, so he can see when he comes downstairs in his every day joy.

I turn the lights on in the nativity and pause.

When have I ever stopped to See what this is, 
     and not just see it as a holiday decoration?

I stretch near it, breathing deeply. I consider what it represents.

Lives were changed here. In a barn.

I think of Mary and what her life was like before Him.

What did she think about? 
What were her dreams and hopes? 

All of these questions bubble up inside of me.

I wonder about the moment just before the angel appeared before her.

Why did He choose that moment to bring the angel? 
What was her moment like before that happened?

I think of the thoughts I've wrestled with lately. 

Hope for another child has resurfaced after I've tried to tuck it neatly away and just wait on Him.

I've ended up angry at myself for not being able to stuff it back down again.

I've struggled with the questions again.

The *waiting* for His will to be revealed has been incredibly difficult.

I just want to know.
I want control.

Fear keeps me clinging for control.

I think of the words I read earlier.

Words from one soul that showed up in another's.
Words of having a God-breathed life.

Words that stick with me like the snow begins to do on my lawn.
     White snow that reminds me of His cleansing.

Out for a run a good ten minutes later than usual, I notice the heavy traffic and find it as odd.

Step by step I become more frustrated in how my run has been interrupted by the delay of waiting for cars passing. I wonder where these people are going so early, and see that several are going to church.

I wonder, why church, today?

And then I remember. This is evidence of a *God-breathed life.*

Not my plans. And not all about me.

He reminds me there are others in this world searching to know about Him, just like me.

He gently speaks to me about a thought I've had sprinkled through the years--of adoption. I sputter that it doesn't make sense.

He tells me a story needs to be lived first, before I can be a part of it.

He reminds me that He knows what is best.

And all I can do is trust.

As anxious as my heavy heart is, and as much as I wonder and ache for His will to be revealed, I know I can't rush ahead of Now.

I choose to rest into Now. 

He tells me to accept my humanness. After all, He does. 

And so, I tell Him how hard it is. He reminds me that I am not expected to surrender so perfectly, or even perfectly rest.

He invites me to Just. Be. 

And there is where I find it. Rest.

     Amidst the busy, it's there. Just waiting to be unwrapped.

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learning responsibility

He's seven and I tell him that he doesn't always know what's best for him.

I'm nearly five times older than him and I still don't always know what's best for me. Or him.

Sometimes I want to rush ahead and make things happen.

I don't always want to wait for His will to be revealed.

Screaming and shouting tempts me to get my point across quicker, harder, faster, stronger, forceful.

Choosing calm, quiet and rest is hard.

I tell him that I understand his urge to be responsible--
     not to be told what to do, and to be entrusted to do it on his own.

I admit to him that I still don't like it when people point out my mistakes--
     for someone to suggest I am not responsible.

A friend of mine tells me that I am always in a rush. Defensively I tell him that I have slowed, at least some. I am not as intense as I once was. Yet, truth tells me he's right.

Sitting the Boy down, I explain to him that sometimes responsibility shows up when we *listen.* 

And I tell him that when we forget to choose kindness and respect for others, responsibility shows up when we apologize and own our behavior.

I ask him if he understands.

He nods his head and I tell him that it is his *responsibility* to try his best at meeting my expectations.

I remind him that when he doesn't, I will forgive him--always.

Thinking of our conversation and the truth of my friend, I am reminded that
     I am still learning responsibility.

I still struggle with rushing ahead, taking short-cuts, ignoring the sound advice of others, and taking my eyes off course.

*Unwrapping {Grace}* today...
     to be who I am Now and accept him as he is Today.



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