“I’m tired.”
A phrase that escapes my lips, and probably yours too,
far more frequently than we intentend.
Something to fill the silence, to express, so much more going on, beneath the surface.
Beyond, deeper than, physically tired,
exhausted.
“Oh these hearts, hands and souls are tired.” (I’ll Keep On, NF)
We need so much more than a couple of coffee cups to wake us up.
Seasons seem repetitive, I grow tired.
A simple symbol I refer to frequently is this loop.
Life is not a vicious circle wearing thin with each repetition.
Neither is it merely a mundane line from start to end.
But a loop,
Yes, at times paths will cross, everything will feel all too similar.
Again and again, yet somehow different.
“Ever-increasing, moving closer, not stuck, not done, LOOKING ALWAYS UP.”
8/22/18
With a heavy burdened heart I ask the Lion
Please, please
He knows my despair, I LOOK UP, our eyes meet.
in those eyes I see great shining tears.
Near; not just in a “pick yourself up, dust yourself off way
tenderly and caringly,
with us
In the dirt, dust, hurt, you cry,
with us
You sing beautiful songs in and through the darkness
Our Hope
Our Comforter
Our Lord.
“MY CHILD, MY CHILD GRIEF IS GREAT.” -C.S. Lewis
great; considerable, large, expansive, vast, massive.
great; significant, important, to be celebrated
This season of grief and confusion is painful. Exhausting, as I said at the beginning “i’m tired.” Under construction, being torn down, in order to be rebuilt, letting go of control, loosening my grip, hands open.
Once wandering around that abandoned house, crumbling, bit by bit, slow, steady, intentional careful work of RESTORATION
In this hurt I’ve met crying eyes with the Lion and He is here, He is with me, when my faith feels thin, and feeling has ceased, hope remains, assurance He is restoring and renewing this hurting heart. Causing deeper trust, dependency upon Him,
He rescues from furnaces, trenches, giants and dens, out of impossible situations,
He truly makes a way
“We will replace the broken bricks of our ruins with finished stone, and replant the felled sycamore fig-trees with cedars.”
-Isaiah 9:10-
Though we feel tossed back and forth, in-between, a tug of war of sorts.
Joy and ache, hope and despair, blooming and dying.
In the midst of contrary feelings simultaneously dwells growth, certainty, He hasn’t left us out to dry.
Though the seasons change, sometimes seemingly a hundred times a day, His love remains. This mess somehow only makes sense when He is our center.
On my own I grow tired,
He’s the endless source that keeps filling, assuring, teaching, leading, reminding, revealing more and more, LIFE.
And through an endless variation of metaphors and words I could continue to attempt to express this, but i guess it’s simply that,
Our Father is faithful.
