Eyes closed, pressed against the seat with salt on my face and my hands over my mouth. This is where the fear descends. Shaking, unable to remain still any longer. Houdini in a word, I cannot do this anymore. I feel the shadows closing around my sunshine, and that last ray of warmth is stolen from my tremoring soul. I've been here before. Shut down, break down, fall apart.
Quiet and still, there is a small whisper on the back of my mind. Gently tugging at the strings of my despair and easing them into peace and contentment. The book falls open somewhere near the middle and I sigh in relief. You have granted me a new heart. Once upon a time, I had asked for it. I remember now. It was a silent memory, but silence is not always indicative of nothing being said. Sometimes, silence is all the sound you could ever ask for. I beg for it now.
I'm on my knees in desperate agony of love. The kind of love the drains you until you're a small puddle at the dip in the porcelain. Not nearly enough to make anything of, not nearly enough to matter. The sort of love that takes you for everything that you are without giving anything in return. And yet, wait. Be patient. Be still. It has offered you everything in return. Everything you never knew that you needed. It's always in the small things, in the things you never knew you were important.
It's the smile when asked to get ice cream. It's the head on your shoulder and arms around your waist. It's your name being shouted from across a room. It's the funny compliments. It's the shameful look of being reprimanded. It's the excitement. It's the teasing. It's the laughter. It's the refusal to do what you say. It's the tears you wipe away. It's the hair you play with. It's the blessing that you are allowed to do any, all of these things. It's that you waited and waited and this is what you received. It's that you didn't recognize it at first. It's that it exhausts you. It's that it breaks your heart. It's that it breathes into your lungs. It's that it feeds the part of your soul you never even knew was starving.
I am starved. It's hard to face - when you know you've dropped the ball a thousand times before. It's difficult to be responsible when there are hundreds of eyes on you, each pair brighter than the last. Not because being responsible is hard, but because you might fail. You might fail without ever realizing it. You might let someone down, you might break a heart, you might disappoint - and that is too much to bear. You want to be all of the things those little eyes see you as. You want to live up to that standard so they might have that standard for themselves. You want to be good and honest and transparent. You want to be appropriate and loving and stern. You want to be upbeat and real and you don't want to be any of these things for yourself, but for them. Always for them.
I am heavy as I wander from responsibility to responsibility, and I remember God telling me that this Summer would be difficult. That it would be impossible. I remember Him gently loving me to this point. I am burdened and weighed down, and I find it so difficult to retain the joy Christ has placed on me. Oh grace, how you escape my grasp. How I forget to grasp for you... to be still in silence would be a beautiful thing. A beautiful thing.
And as I am here, I remember. I remember to wait, to wait, to wait. When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue is parched with thirst, I the LORD will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them. These are the words of the God I know. These are the words of a God I love, who I strive to be like. My heart is soft, pliable. It has been beaten and bruised, and restored. I will wait on what I know to be true. Eyes tilted towards He who made me, in earnest and waiting. I will lead by example and love beyond my capability. Love like Christ has called me to love, love like I have been made to. I will live up to the expectations of who I was made to be and never question the possibility of it all. I will be enough. I will be more than enough.
Wait.
Quiet and still, there is a small whisper on the back of my mind. Gently tugging at the strings of my despair and easing them into peace and contentment. The book falls open somewhere near the middle and I sigh in relief. You have granted me a new heart. Once upon a time, I had asked for it. I remember now. It was a silent memory, but silence is not always indicative of nothing being said. Sometimes, silence is all the sound you could ever ask for. I beg for it now.
I'm on my knees in desperate agony of love. The kind of love the drains you until you're a small puddle at the dip in the porcelain. Not nearly enough to make anything of, not nearly enough to matter. The sort of love that takes you for everything that you are without giving anything in return. And yet, wait. Be patient. Be still. It has offered you everything in return. Everything you never knew that you needed. It's always in the small things, in the things you never knew you were important.
It's the smile when asked to get ice cream. It's the head on your shoulder and arms around your waist. It's your name being shouted from across a room. It's the funny compliments. It's the shameful look of being reprimanded. It's the excitement. It's the teasing. It's the laughter. It's the refusal to do what you say. It's the tears you wipe away. It's the hair you play with. It's the blessing that you are allowed to do any, all of these things. It's that you waited and waited and this is what you received. It's that you didn't recognize it at first. It's that it exhausts you. It's that it breaks your heart. It's that it breathes into your lungs. It's that it feeds the part of your soul you never even knew was starving.
I am starved. It's hard to face - when you know you've dropped the ball a thousand times before. It's difficult to be responsible when there are hundreds of eyes on you, each pair brighter than the last. Not because being responsible is hard, but because you might fail. You might fail without ever realizing it. You might let someone down, you might break a heart, you might disappoint - and that is too much to bear. You want to be all of the things those little eyes see you as. You want to live up to that standard so they might have that standard for themselves. You want to be good and honest and transparent. You want to be appropriate and loving and stern. You want to be upbeat and real and you don't want to be any of these things for yourself, but for them. Always for them.
I am heavy as I wander from responsibility to responsibility, and I remember God telling me that this Summer would be difficult. That it would be impossible. I remember Him gently loving me to this point. I am burdened and weighed down, and I find it so difficult to retain the joy Christ has placed on me. Oh grace, how you escape my grasp. How I forget to grasp for you... to be still in silence would be a beautiful thing. A beautiful thing.
And as I am here, I remember. I remember to wait, to wait, to wait. When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue is parched with thirst, I the LORD will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them. These are the words of the God I know. These are the words of a God I love, who I strive to be like. My heart is soft, pliable. It has been beaten and bruised, and restored. I will wait on what I know to be true. Eyes tilted towards He who made me, in earnest and waiting. I will lead by example and love beyond my capability. Love like Christ has called me to love, love like I have been made to. I will live up to the expectations of who I was made to be and never question the possibility of it all. I will be enough. I will be more than enough.
Wait.
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