Baby, Hang On

To begin: Eucharisteo (Thanks-Living)

#65. Shampooing Lyla’s hair – silken, smelling of lavender and lilac

#75. Rain splattering on my windows at night, soaking into the earth, giving it a good drink

#78. The baby sleeping with her hands clasped behind her head. Total relaxation.

#81. The truth spoken in love. Proverbs 27:6 “Faithful are the wounds of a friend, But deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.”

#82. Crumpled tissues soaked with repentant tears, healing tears.

#88. The hope of spring.

This has been a rough week. Spiritually, physically – I feel like I have been battered on all sides. And at the very heart of it all, when I really got down to it with the help of a most trusted friend (or sister, really) there was sin rearing it’s ugly head. And that mixed with an issue that needs healing, has for a long time . . . well, God bless my sweet friend who goes head to head with me when I am an emotional mess. It was a little like pulling teeth, but she does not give up easy, and neither does my Lord. Thanks be to Him.

I felt a little, or a lot, like Israel. Here I am having walked through the parted sea, escaped destruction, provided for in every way and delivered into the promised land, and I find myself grumbling(Numbers 14:27). Grumbling. It’s ludicrous!  And even still, sometimes I feel like I specialize in the ludicrous, the ridiculous, the crazy.

And it’s when I acknowledge my wrong and grieve it, that the strain, the stress, the hurt begins to drain away. I’m all the more desperate for His grace. And I read tonight in One Thousand Gifts  a retelling of Jacob wrestling with God (Genesis 32:24-31) where Jacob becomes, Israel. After wrestling all night with a man, who is God unbeknownst to Jacob, God touches Jacob at the socket of his thigh, crippling him. Jacob will not let go and says, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

Living in thanks, I also refuse to let go. Tenacity.

And Ann shares a quote from preacher James H. McConkey, “The Lord has to break us down at the strongest part of our self-life before He can have His own way of blessing us.”  I read that and sat, mouth gaping. And I said aloud, “Bless me, bless me. I thank you for this mess, for the breaking, for all of it. Just bless me. I won’t let go.”

It’s not an empty promise. It’s what is. It’s what I must say to people who say, “Oh I could never live through what you have.” Yes you could and you will, we all must . . . be broken, and you must not let go.

And now I am all worn out in a good way. Emptied of me and filled up with the truth that I continue to learn year after year, that when I come to the end of myself, I come to the beginning of His glory.



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