Today is one of those days. It’s an, I want to escape into a cheesy novel like, Love Comes Softly, or regress to my childhood Miss Bianca in the Salt Mines, while soaking in a bubbly hot tub. It’s a day I choose to share my heart, instead of hiding it.
It is “a worst of times” kind of day, it is a “best of times” kind of day.
It’s a day where I find myself weeping over the broken, fallen, hurting, horrible world we live in. It’s a day my heart breaks for the multitudes whose pain I have embraced. It’s a day my mama heart hurts over the pain my children are feeling. A day I wish I could snuggle them to my breast again and make it better.
It’s a day I look up to heaven and rest without the answers of why we must suffer, why the “formula” of faith never works, and I know that somehow God is holding my babies in the palm of His hand and cradling them gently.
It’s a day I do some happy weeping; rejoicing over the beauty of a life well lived, an unfolding flower, a kiss from a furry friends, roses from my husband, the image of my tiny new grand-daughter, or the blessings of living in such an easy country.
There is a time to weep, and a time to rejoice.
The more we live and the more deeply we love, the times of weeping and rejoicing become conjoined at the hip. Our emotions are woven into an intricate web of happiness and sorrow, rejoicing and suffering, beauty and pain. A web of sticky strands waiting to capture us. Filled with the tears of life.
Jesus has chosen to reside in our webs.
It’s a day I miss my son who is in the presence of Jesus. I can imagine Micaiah hanging out with my Lord Lover, and I cry with a conjoined unfolding of immeasurable joy trapped in a web of “what’s?” What’s his smile like? What does he hug like? I’ll never have my arms wrapped around him in an embrace of, “I don’t really want to let go.” Never seeing him open his eyes, or hear the sound of his voice. “What does he look like Jesus?” “What does his voice sound like?” Never meeting his children. Never saying “I love you.”
It’s a day I feel weary of working in grief, weary of a non-profit, weary of newsletters worries, weary of funding woes, and weary of wondering why Americans are so afraid to join me in this painful, but sacred place.
It’s a day I love what I do. It’s a day I feel energized. I love serving the wounded Jesus holds close. I love equipping others to understand lament and walk beside the wounded also. It’s a day I love living out to the fullest the life He has given me.
It is the best of days, it is the worst of days.
It is a day that I should be doing my college work instead of blogging. I should be getting out a newsletter instead of blogging. I should be mopping my floor or doing the piles of laundry instead of blogging. I should be busy with anything but blogging. It should be a Martha day, not a Mary day.
It’s a day I want to be Martha to the needy, the poor, the broken, the lost, and the suffering – instead of blogging. It’s a day I want to be the Hands and Feet.
It is a day I am so thankful for a husband who takes the Martha and the Mary; a Beloved who takes the broken and beautiful me, wholly and unconditionally.
It’s a day I don’t care if you like my tattoo, cause I think Jesus does. He was with me when I got it.
It is a day I decide to toss the judgment of others to the wind, and dare to be a real human, with real issues, and real pain, and real desires, and real regrets, and real worries, and real joys, and make that knowledge public, in the hopes that someone else struggling to know a real God may be touched by knowing me as a real messy, but adored, used, accepted, and beloved by God, person.
A real person who loves and serve a real God. A God named Jesus. A God who gets me. A God who I love beyond life.
And have sometimes, hated for a moment, then another moment, and yet another moment, for not just fixing it all, and making it all better.
He’s a God who I don’t understand, yet no longer have to. He’s a God who loves me more than life too. He proved that on the cross.
A God who experienced the best of times, and the worst of times alongside suffering humanity.
A God who chose to.
He’s a God that’s in the darkness with us. He leads us out though sometimes we may lose sight of Him for a while. He always knows exactly where we are, and pulls us out by an unseen hand; the touch is so gentle that sometimes we miss it for the pain dominating our hearts.
He’s a God who takes us for who we are, what we are, when we are, and where we are. He gently lifts, and molds and mends, all the while letting our light shine from a place of authenticity, transparency, and reality.
If we let Him.
Not to make us someone other than who we are, but to make us clean, forgiven, accepted, and whole. A peculiar people loved by a perfect God.
God resides with the Jesus lovin’ drunk in the gutter whose pain was more than He could overcome, the mother dying of cancer, the orphan wandering the streets, the disaster survivor hanging on by a thread, the visionary wondering why our visions aren’t realized, and the person praying as the bomb goes off.
He’s with the bride saying “I do,” the infant taking its first breath, the child blowing out the birthday candles, the father playing catch, the teen running to home base, and the mom dancing with her toddler.
He is with us in total solitude, and in hand clapping praise. He is with us as we rise in the morning, and as we drift off at night.
He’s with the gardener, the carpenter, the engineer, the homemaker, the widow, the teen, the nurse, the chaplain, the paramedic, the janitor, the landscaper, the check-out clerk and the mechanic.
He’s with them in the best of times, and the worst of times.
He is with us in our spiritual formation, and our spiritual deserts.
He has promised He will never leave us or forsake us.
He is with me as I blog.
My tears may fall again today and that’s Ok.
I love my tears. They are a gift.
I love even more that Jesus sits next to me and hands me the tissue to dry them, and then chides me and says, “You beautiful mess you. Now open up that text book and learn about me. I’ll read Miss Bianca in the Salt Mines and run the tub for you later. I’ll even make you tea. ”
(If you don’t know this God, I encourage you to find Him. If you don’t feel loved, I encourage you to trust Him. Contact me if you’d like me to help with the introduction. It’s not needed, but some people are shy, afraid, or think that their mess is too big for God. My information is everywhere on the internet. Seriously, Jesus is a game changer.)