Time moves slow like molasses. Or should I say I feel like I am moving in
molasses amidst a spinning whirlwind. I am not sure exactly why this is
happening. All right, maybe I can give one reason time seems like a fickle
mistress. My husband of ten years will return to our home and our little lives
after being gone for almost 2 ½ long
years.
I have measured time in all sorts of fonts and formats. How
many more cups of coffee will I have until that fateful day in October arrives?
Too many. Each cup seems to pass through my mouth like sludge. My belly is
sated but I drink voraciously as if my present life couldn’t keep ticking if I
took my lips from the mug. As I gulp breaths of air in vain, I see the vessel
is empty and another day is done. Another cup of coffee finished in a rapid
slow motion.
In this midst of this limbo I have longed and yearned
vocally to the Lord. Please, take me away from this house- just for the
remaining weeks, days and hours I have left to abide in this no-man’s –land
dwelling. Anywhere but here, Lord. Didn’t I cry out this same plea at the
beginning of our sentence two years ago? Am I such an irreverent soul that I
learn not my lesson of ungratefulness the first time?
As I vocalized my growth and valleys to numerous sisters and
friends, I would transparently share in a slightly arrogant and reproachful
way: “I found myself wanting to move from the pain, escape it. As humans we
want to slip from under the pressing weight of discomfort and agony. Sometimes
we are meant to just abide in the “Dark Night of the Soul” and find God’s
redeeming love amidst the storm.” I would say. Like the Psalmist trying to have a self “pep talk” with my soul, I am reminding myself of truths I once learned, but like a
child have forgotten my way. I want out. Out of pain, waiting, enduring and
longing.
What can relieve this palpable state of gray? A splash of
color from a vacation? Distraction in a project? Mindless wandering elsewhere? A
shot (or two) of whiskey?
My heart knows the truest place I feel content is when I am
giving thanks. Ann Voskamp’s voice
has been a beacon in my ears. As I bustle throughout my days and chores- I
learn how to give thanks. You’d think something so simple would be easy. If it
were so, she wouldn’t have written a compelling book on one thing: eucharisteo: Giving Thanks. Self-diagnosing can be a dangerous sport when using a tool such
as WebMD. However, self-diagnosing CAN be done when the Holy Spirit is the one
actually doing the recommending. What have I been prescribed for this restless discontent
heart is THANKS.
“ Suffering nourishes grace.” “Labors of grief birth into greater grace. Isn’t this the crux of the Gospel?”- Ann Voskamp
In the coming 27
days, I will take the Joy Dare and “Give thanks in
all things”- finding the beauty, glory, joy, peace, rest and gifts that my
precious Saviour has lavished on me since the day of His death. How can I
demand anymore than that? I can’t. Yet, like a proud lover, he lavishes my days
with trinkets, tokens, gifts, words, blessings far beyond my comprehension to
create- if only I can have the eyes and ears to behold them.
27 days
of looking and
listening to my Saviour’s voice to keep me in a state of homeostasis
27 days
of learning to
consciously give thanks
27 days
and then 27x1,000,000 thereafter to be content.
Here is
September’s Joy Dare, will you join me?
