i read something recently about saying yes to God, again.
about saying 'yes' to God when the season has changed and when 'yes' might feel like the hardest three letters to put together and speak out loud. the writer talks about Jesus asking peter to follow him after foreshadowing peter's death. asking peter to follow him, again, knowing he'll be going into dark places. that it will be hard, but an unknown hard. those are the worse 'yes's'. those blurry dark yes's are the hardest.
returning has been one of those yes's.
yes it's the right thing to do. yes there pretty much weren't any other options. yes God showed up and opened doors- like jobs and adoption completions and things like that but it doesn't make the 'yes' any easier. it just doesn't.
these are the seasons that really test me. i just got back from having one of my 'come to Jesus' talks with Jesus. when i get in the car and drive and talk out loud to Him loudly about how unhappy i am with the way things are going down in my life. i tell Him that i'm going to skip over the 'thank yous' and the niceties because while that's in there too, i need to speak the ugly stuff and i don't have that much time alone in the car. i'm always tempted to think that God is like, 'oh great here she goes again' and wants to reach for the world's smallest fiddle - but i know that actually He is so big and has so much room to love that He puts out His hand, pulls me close and really listens even though He already knows. it's like when i'm just waiting for my kids to tell me what's going on inside when i can see it all over their face but i know they need to speak it.
so i spoke all the suckiness of this season. i told Jesus how i feel like a gerbil in an exposed glass cage with nothing but a bunch of woodchips trying to make a life for herself. sort of frantic and undone. needing to nest and vulnerable but with no supplies, wishing someone would just drop an empty toilet paper roll tube in so i could hide. i told Him that i am bored and exhausted at the same time. that everything looks both familiar and foreign. that i'm lonely but want to be alone. i told him that i really just want to go home. and then i did that dangerous thing, i let myself remember what home feels like. i remembered the feeling of being in my own house, of normal, of edith, of going to the store, of red dust and bare feet and chickens, of loud music and the call to prayer echoing through the neighborhood. of our car, our dogs, long conversations with friends. peoples porches, the colors of the sky and the trees, and people being everywhere all the time. and my heart literally ached. and God did that thing that i do with my kids when they are really sad and i know they just need to feel it, hard and awful as it is, keep quiet. be present. and be quiet. because feeling pain is important and real and avoiding it doesn't work. i know because i've tried that before.
when i got home i climbed in mikes lap and cried. i told him i the same things i had told God but with out any of the blame for the way things are. he said, 'i know, me too'. because he does know and it is the same for him thankfully.
sometimes God asks us to do things and say things before we are ready to do them. before we believe them and long before we can see them. it's called faith. as this day ends, while i've sat with God who has been mostly silent but present, i heard Him asking my 'yes' to be even more than a 'yes'.
can you trust me enough to say 'thank you'? 'thank you' for this season that you didn't ask for? can you say 'thank you' for a season that you don't want? do you trust me that much?
it broke me again when i heard Him ask that. because just like remembering home, i remembered all the reasons i have to trust Him. the other dark seasons i didn't want, their sparks of light. the many times i couldn't see a way, a way came. they are similar feelings: home and love.
'yes. i do. i trust you.' so through my tears i said,
'Thank You for this season that is hard.'
i've seen before and know that beautiful things come from hard places. today i can say 'yes'. today i will again say 'thank you'.
about saying 'yes' to God when the season has changed and when 'yes' might feel like the hardest three letters to put together and speak out loud. the writer talks about Jesus asking peter to follow him after foreshadowing peter's death. asking peter to follow him, again, knowing he'll be going into dark places. that it will be hard, but an unknown hard. those are the worse 'yes's'. those blurry dark yes's are the hardest.
returning has been one of those yes's.
yes it's the right thing to do. yes there pretty much weren't any other options. yes God showed up and opened doors- like jobs and adoption completions and things like that but it doesn't make the 'yes' any easier. it just doesn't.
these are the seasons that really test me. i just got back from having one of my 'come to Jesus' talks with Jesus. when i get in the car and drive and talk out loud to Him loudly about how unhappy i am with the way things are going down in my life. i tell Him that i'm going to skip over the 'thank yous' and the niceties because while that's in there too, i need to speak the ugly stuff and i don't have that much time alone in the car. i'm always tempted to think that God is like, 'oh great here she goes again' and wants to reach for the world's smallest fiddle - but i know that actually He is so big and has so much room to love that He puts out His hand, pulls me close and really listens even though He already knows. it's like when i'm just waiting for my kids to tell me what's going on inside when i can see it all over their face but i know they need to speak it.
so i spoke all the suckiness of this season. i told Jesus how i feel like a gerbil in an exposed glass cage with nothing but a bunch of woodchips trying to make a life for herself. sort of frantic and undone. needing to nest and vulnerable but with no supplies, wishing someone would just drop an empty toilet paper roll tube in so i could hide. i told Him that i am bored and exhausted at the same time. that everything looks both familiar and foreign. that i'm lonely but want to be alone. i told him that i really just want to go home. and then i did that dangerous thing, i let myself remember what home feels like. i remembered the feeling of being in my own house, of normal, of edith, of going to the store, of red dust and bare feet and chickens, of loud music and the call to prayer echoing through the neighborhood. of our car, our dogs, long conversations with friends. peoples porches, the colors of the sky and the trees, and people being everywhere all the time. and my heart literally ached. and God did that thing that i do with my kids when they are really sad and i know they just need to feel it, hard and awful as it is, keep quiet. be present. and be quiet. because feeling pain is important and real and avoiding it doesn't work. i know because i've tried that before.
when i got home i climbed in mikes lap and cried. i told him i the same things i had told God but with out any of the blame for the way things are. he said, 'i know, me too'. because he does know and it is the same for him thankfully.
sometimes God asks us to do things and say things before we are ready to do them. before we believe them and long before we can see them. it's called faith. as this day ends, while i've sat with God who has been mostly silent but present, i heard Him asking my 'yes' to be even more than a 'yes'.
can you trust me enough to say 'thank you'? 'thank you' for this season that you didn't ask for? can you say 'thank you' for a season that you don't want? do you trust me that much?
it broke me again when i heard Him ask that. because just like remembering home, i remembered all the reasons i have to trust Him. the other dark seasons i didn't want, their sparks of light. the many times i couldn't see a way, a way came. they are similar feelings: home and love.
'yes. i do. i trust you.' so through my tears i said,
'Thank You for this season that is hard.'
i've seen before and know that beautiful things come from hard places. today i can say 'yes'. today i will again say 'thank you'.
