JoyinthaJourney

Overcast, dreary days cast their stain of gray on souls growing weary, searching for the ambition left behind with the last sunny day

The year is no longer new and time will not rewind, you claw past the season onto the next with little regard to a direction

Won’t you see when it’s not working? The life you’re dying to live is killing you… You’re already dead

You fill up and know not of your emptiness, ignorant to the decay and the lies that have housed you in your head

I know you want a break in the monotony of doubt, I can see you’re curious, too. Won’t you examine the path you’re on, is it worth it to you?

You’ve placed all of your eggs in the wrong basket. What is truth you ask? But you don’t want the answer. Because then you’d have to change.

Your success is mine, darling girl.

Her big, blue eyes widened with amazement as she realized the impossible to her was happening…

She was peeing in her pink Disney princess potty all by herself. I ran over to her and scooped her up off the floor, swinging her around like she had just won some Olympic medal.

This whole week of trial and error, patience stretching thin and confronting that I see so much of myself in her. The best parts of me…and yes,the worst, too . I joke that she is stubborn like her father (she is) but she is also stubborn; like me. And she needs a lot of room. To be free. But believed in. She will come into her own. In time. In God’s time. Her time.

She was fearful of the unknown but I wonder if she was not more fearful to disappoint or displease me.

In my life, those fears have kept me from too much .

So, I rejoice in her victory and I pray my love will motivate her to do that which I know she can do…when she is ready, of course.

When you know, you just know. Know what exactly? When you get under people’s skin. When you make people uncomfortable by being the real you. The imperfect, messy, sometimes hypocritical, contradictory, awkward, unabashedly- honest you. The you that still sins but is forgiven, who lives a life of scandalous freedom yet is still called to yield to self control. Doesn’t make sense…

Everyone’s pretending, or has at some point and that seems far more normal than living on front Street. Talking about feelings. Emotions. Sin. Jesus. Truth (there’s either truth or there isn’t). Hard stuff. Uncomfortable stuff. Not politically correct stuff. We’re talking majorly divisive stuff. Your beliefs. When you start stepping out and living it.

Religion is safe. Even faith. Even God, in that sort of generic feel goody- fuzzy way. I get it, it’s fine for me but Don’t shove it in my face. And don’t you dare actually live what you profess. Or change. That’s radical. And it is. When you claim that it’s more than an emotional crutch, when you literally believe as if it’s life or death. And it is. Or heaven forbid, consider the ancient Bible with any authority or credibility. Surely, nothing can be known and it’s culturally irrelevant. That’s a lot too much for many. It doesn’t feel safe. It isn’t. Or uniform. It won’t be. Or universal . Now, you’re chartering dangerous waters. Now you’re either horrifically stupid and hopelessly brain washed or hateful. Or both

Galatians 1:10 Immerse the reading Bible holy Bible new living translation

“Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.”

Hmm… This verse tends to pop up in a reoccurring way in my life. Truth is, I do want to please people. It’s kind of how the Lord made me. But when it comes down to it, God must be first in my life. And following him will certainly not be pleasing to me or those I care for all the time. The Bible tells me it will inevitably cost me something.. Matthew 10:38-39

Yet, in my serving I am to “if possible, as far as it depends on you, live peacably with all” . (Romans 12:18) This is a fine line it seems. One that I cannot in my own effort get right. Thankfully, the Bible is filled with characters like me whom God used to his glory and mission.

I must be prepared, though, for friction. Tension. Unease. Relationships severing. Offending or being offended. Losing credibility. Respect. Being tested. Ostracized. Or worse. Perhaps far, far worse lies ahead.

I know this. I want to be authentic. I want to be so much a woman of integrity that anyone who tries to come against me would be stricken with conviction. I want to be accused of being a “true Christian” and nothing less. If I don’t share what’s most important to me, how can I be trusted with anything??

How lovely are the snow flakes falling outside as I watch from inside the comfort of my warm home, something about it feels as if time is slowing, stopping. The clock continues to tick, the children’s voices become muffled and my mind wanders. My motivation is nowhere to be found.

I fantasize of wardrobes that lead into Narnia and adventures that stir my soul . I could drift to sleep while the earth readies itself for spring but I’m sure I’d miss something.

The children appear from their bedroom in need to be entertained so for now I’ll put away this January day dream

It’s a short trip to feel the heat from your fire, the anger is hurled with abandon once more. ” I’m sorry” are the words I know I won’t hear but I still find myself hoping you’ll see the light in these tears

Chorus:

It’s not that I need to be right, I’m just tired of being wrong, I need to see it matters when my face crumples from your glare… It’s easy to feel like you just don’t care

I wonder what you see when you’re looking at me, do the years we’ve spent enter your mind ? I wanna be loved but being liked is kind

Chorus:

It’s not that I need to be right, I’m just tired of being wrong. It hurts to feel disregarded for so long.

It’s me in here, I’m here, I’m here

Repeat

I’m restless. I hate feeling restless. I want to lasso the moon and start a movement or become naturally drowsy and drift into contented sleep. I should be doing something. But what?

I want this year to be different. I want every year to be different. I have made up resolutions in my mind but my heart lacks the faith to see them through. I feel as though January is my chance to set a fire before February swallows me whole.

I want so much. What is this yearning? The urge to take hold…

Boldness. Older. Time. Ticking. I am a messenger and I need to deliver

It’s all or nothing.

I have done life this way. I’m either full speed ahead & tackling whatever task it is I deem imperative or I am completely overwhelmed to the point I become paralyzed and do nothing. It is either obsessive or it is neglected .

I expect perfection I know I’ll never achieve. I cannot afford to be passionately apathetic. What is this middle that I’m in? The middle that causes me discomfort. I am exhausted and disappointed in myself before the day even begins. When will this end? When will I see the road marked out for me? Is it mediocrity to accept things and let them be? And to whom do I owe this version of myself I aspire to be? I desperately want to give the best of me.

Mother. Wife. Woman. I crave the affirmation that declares me worthy of the titles I am privileged to hold and yet fear that is all that people see

Lord, free me from the cravings of praise and receiving credit. The need to be understood. The urge to defend. The illusion of control.

Pull me out from the world I know where safety poses the threat of living this life in comfort, a life of ignorant death

I want the world to see in me a radiant light revealing all that you have created me to be

A city on a hill, a candle that can be seen and warmth felt

But if through temptation I become oft to boast then let the good I do be lost in obscurity

I live this life to follow you

This is not my show

What stings worse than the words carelessly thrown out with violent abandon? The silence that shouts, tearing into and piercing my heart, spreading the message clearly that my hurt doesn’t matter. Already battling inflictions that threaten to engulf me, this knocks me down again. I know what I have and who I am and I am alone. But, not completely.

My God, will all of this be of use to you? I lay down the right to hurt if it brings me closer to you, take all of this and write your story, let my weakness be to your glory. Lord, don’t let my tears flow freely to the waste, I am seen by none and yet, you remain. Hear my cries and what my lips cannot say, I know nothing comes my way but by what you ordain. Take it all away. Help me push past this.