I am wonky and off-center, stressed about money and nursing
a headache and cramps and a pink-eyed daughter today. I am waiting for too many
things that are suspended in air, aware that nothing easy is around the corner,
and I'm cranky. I am too little already to be minced up so fine, scattered to
the dizzying tasks of making life in a world that is not my home.
It all feels so worldly and more than ever, I'm longing for
fresh life, for a break in the rain. Out the window there is a tree tower leaning
crooked, ever closer to our roof than the day before and I watch the tree
suspiciously, envisioning the break line…sizing up just where and when it might
crack right through the middle, splinter and split and sever and crush whatever
lies beneath it. And I might be more like that tree than I'd like to believe.
I, too, am precariously leaning.
But I watch the clock in the meantime and cling desperately
to absurd ideas and anxious attempts at control and count quarters, again. I
click-clack on the keyboard 'cause it's my job in life and it's the only thing
I know to do when I don't know what to do, when I've gotten myself in the same
mess that comes around more often than I can stand to admit. I contemplate
less, so much less, and don't know how it's possible at the same time.
I balance and re-balance and the numbers topple like the
tree will someday. I order mistakes in my mind and fine-tune on do-overs that
will never be done over. So I say it, methodically, word-by-word to myself over
and over, that Word, that reminder, the instruction of what to do with our
anxieties and focus this time on the part "transcends all understanding"
because I am ever and always trying to make sense of the senseless, trying to
give God an "out" on His promises.
If I could trust, I would know He needs none. If I could
trust, I wouldn't be gut-deep in this. But my pretending has got me here, and
so I grasp quarters like a lifeline and rehearse verses like a lunatic, over
and over to find new life in the words, to make myself believe them.
Linking to: Imperfect Prose on Thursdays at canvaschild.com.
Linking to: Imperfect Prose on Thursdays at canvaschild.com.
i feel you on this...we live by quarters each month it seems and money is always a stress but we still find what we need and sometimes even a bit left over...this has def been road to learning this for me...
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, Brian. This too shall pass, I know this, and I am reminded of the need to be more faithful when it comes to every one of those quarters because I cannot be blessed when I am in no position to handle it.
ReplyDeleteAn hour ago, I prayed, "Lord, I am faced with truth.I cannot find it in me today to trust. I try, but I cannot.
ReplyDeleteWhat happens when I come to the throne of grace to find help in time of need with shaky confidence at best, that is stretching it? My hope is that this throne is one of GRACE." Then I read your blog.
Earlier this week, He said to me," There is power in this grace."
I, too, clutch promises until my hand is straining. Mine are different than yours. But it is His hand that "openeth to fill the desire of every living thing."
Blessings on you today :)
Even my blogging has been a struggle. Perhaps I will try your honesty.
It all feels so worldly and more than ever, I'm longing for
ReplyDeletefresh life, for a break in the rain.
you put into words here what i so very often feel, friend. i've missed you. xo