Songs of my heart spilling into my little four-door, whispering words of gratitude.
Everything was so clear.
Do you know what I mean? For a good 30 minutes, my Nissan was a sacred room of worship. Mental fog lifted and I kept whispering gratitudes. Praise. Adoration.
I have times like these and I wish I could say they happened more frequently but I think you'll understand me when I say... it just doesn't happen all the time.
When it falls into my open hands, invisible manna from Heaven, I am filled, down to my toes, with unspeakable joy.
Tears are shed because I'm spilling over the edges. I'm overwhelmed with how good God is.
See... I love blogging. And writing. And any sort of artistic creation that I can force out of my bleeding heart.
But some days, by stirring up words and color, I end up stirring the bottom of the basin. My placid water turns gray and brown, and I wonder if there's any beauty left to extract.
Some days, it feels more like an army crawl through the muck. I am dragging the weight of it all on my own back. Mud splashes into my mouth and I end the day with only the taste of the things that need to be washed clean.
See, sometimes I act more like a soldier of God than a child of God.
And even more, sometimes the soul-baring that is required to write, paint, sketch, sing...it's just a giant mirror of how far I have yet to go. It's still really muddy in there.
(I know, I know. We're all muddy.)
But do you ever just tire of your own stuff? My desire for Godly discipline sometimes turns so self-focused that I forget that my righteousness is nothing. That's when I realize I'm missing the point. Some days, the work of Grace seems more like work than grace.
(Even now, I hesitate to say all these things because I don't always like talking faith and pain and the mix between them. The possibilities for being misunderstood are nearly endless.)
What beauty is there in such mud? In army-crawling through life?
(My elbows hurt and these burdens are too heavy.)
Oh yes. I'm going to stop this madness.
Because Manna has fallen today. And I am up to the brim, filled.
I'm going to be carefree, even though I'm not care free. And I read these words from my ramblings last summer, and I remember why I do this. All this:
"We enjoy things that don't last, knowing full well that the stuff that lasts bleeds into the temporal. At least it should. So we enjoy homemade bread and coffee, because it fuels our community. We eat cake at midnight, because we're talking about dreams and the future. We shed tears because we know that sometimes we mourn together. Then we high-five about air conditioning, because we celebrate the basic luxuries. Carefree in a full of cares world. Because we can."(I'm nodding, as you're telling me that you understand. And I smile, because you are a gift to me.)
Thankful to join up with these other writers today: