I’ve got a beautifully crafted blog post in my ‘drafts’ section. It was written at a time when I felt rested, restored and refreshed: all was fine and dandy.
That draft post is all about allowing God to use us just as we are, despite how ‘whole’ or ‘unwhole; we might be feeling. One day I’ll post it.
But today, right now and right in this moment I’m actually living in the reality of feeling unwhole. I’m at the end of my resources: we’re on our twelfth night of non-stop visitors, I’ve hardly seen Rich, and I’m trying to fit in work, planning for a conference, and all the end of term events for the kids.
It’s a thin and shallow place and I want to hide away from everything and everyone.
Every couple of weeks I meet with a friend for just over an hour at the end of the school day. We sacrifice busy schedules for something bigger than ourselves. Through rain, shine and wind we walk along the coast.
And we pray. Simple prayers. Some weeks wearing snowboots and some weeks bare foot. Some weeks walking against the wind, eyes peeking out through eskimo hoods strapped up tight, ears straining to hear one another against the wind. We look across to the sea; some days waves gently lapping back and forth, back and forth. Other days angry waves pummel the sand. But always we’re reminded. The God who created the beauty we see before us, He is the same. Yesterday, today and forever. He is faithful. He is present. He is Immanuel: God with us.
Today, as warm sand tickled my toes, and the wind dried off the tears from my face, my heart rested back to the still place of peace I have come to expect when I choose to come before God.
I don’t understand fully what happens when we pray. But what I do know is this: my heart changes as I choose to come before Him and say, ‘I can’t, but You can.’
(This post was actually written two or three weeks ago but in the busyness of life I didn’t manage to post it at the time.)