This life that I live, what a blessed one it is indeed.
I have thought about sitting down and blogging for over a year. I would open up my browser, type in wordpress.com, wait for it to load, try to remember which email address that I used when I first started my blog, and what in the world did I make my password? I would open up each blog and look back at what I used to write,the musings of a heart so connected to the written word that it flowed so seamlessly, a melody riding on the Father’s rhythms of grace. I open a new page, a new post, my cursor blinking and blaring at me, and then: nothing.
No words. Not at least, words that I felt were adequate enough, succinct enough, whole enough, to put to paper, to express. I saw my thoughts as a jumbled mess, a tangled ball of yarn with no discernible beginning or end. But that is life sometimes isn’t it?
Sometimes life feels like a tangled ball of yarn with no discernible beginning or end. Sometimes life feels like a puzzle freshly removed from the box and poured out on the table, all of the pieces turned this way and that and right-side-up and flipped upside-down. Sometimes life is a beautiful mess.
A few days ago I walked into my closet to hang up my sweatshirt and in the process decided to pull out my winter clothes since it ’tis the season. I sat down on the floor and proceeded to pull each piece of winter clothing from the box, caressing each piece like a long lost friend that had walked many winter miles with me. – In many ways that’s how I feel about this blog. Going back and reading through old posts is like looking at old snapshots of the long winter months where I would look up and hope to catch just a glimpse of the sun through the expanse of mourning gray clouds. – After I had successful pulled out every piece of winter clothing, I sat on the floor of my closet, leaning against the wall surrounded by past winter moments, surrounded by clothes strewn here and there, surrounded by my mess. As I sat in that moment, I sat contented because when I walk through my mess, underneath the canopy of the forrest, and I push through the overgrown foliage, and I tromp over dead grasses still standing and the snow underfoot, I come into the middle of a clearing and I sit. I sit and I reflect. I can see the mess from which I came to my right and I can see the mess to which I must press on to my left, but in that moment I can just sit. I know from whence I came and I know where I need to go. I may not know all of the mountains and valleys I will meet along the way and I may not know which companions the Lord will bring to me to walk along the path with me and push through the overgrowth, but I know from whence I came and I know where I am going. I came from my Father and to my Father I will return. I came from the Potter’s hands and in his hands I will always remain. I am gold which has to go through the fire to draw out the dross to perfection. I am a child of the King who sits on my Father’s lap and listens all day long as he speaks his Creation over my head. I am a princess wearing a woven crown of jewels and my Knight, wearing gleaming silver armor, stands in front of me in the presence of my enemies. I am a fierce woman clothed in robes flowing of unwavering truth, a belt of righteousness, sandals of fortified faith, and a crown of steadfast hope; eyes and heart blazing with the loving zeal of my Father. I am a mother who holds her child in her arms as her child listens to her heart beat of her unending, overflowing love from her Papa.
I am woman and I am fierce.
As I sat on the floor of my closet, God showed me these things. He showed me who he had taught me to be and who he had created me to be. He showed me that there is purpose and glory in every moment, every season that I have walked through. I climbed onto his lap as he began to go through the scrapbook of my life, turning page after page with pictures and little captions about each precious moment, and he whispered the beautiful secrets of his glory over my life. He always speaks his love over me and he always gives me grace for each day. He is always faithful and he is always good. He is my most faithful provider and my constant strength. He is my source of hope; he is the reason for my hope. He shows me his majesty through his Creation and his care in the details. He is gentle and he is kind. He is my continual source of wisdom and truth. He is my heart and he has my heart. He is so beautifully jealous for me.
So I suppose that as I begin to blog again and as I begin to write and to pray for succinct language to communicate his great and mighty works and words in my life, that I will sit and I will write and his glory will shine through because that’s who He is.