Brokenness

I don't like it.

I don't like feeling broken.

It cuts deep to a place that I thought was long gone.

It makes me feel like a failure. It makes me feel gross and full of loathing and fear.

I don't like it. This brokenness in my life is making me feel like a failure at something I didn't even know I could be "bad" at.

How can you fail at something that you want so much, that you long for?

How can you fail at something that you've prayed so fervently for and cried out before God?

Today I am angry.

Angry because I feel broken.

Angry because I feel like a failure.

Angry because I feel like God isn't listening, like he doesn't hear me.

God do you hear me?! 

What are you trying to teach me?! I don't understand!

You know if you just let me have what I want my way that I wouldn't have to yell and be angry and frustrated!

And most of all I wouldn't feel broken.

I don't understand.

Today I am also thankful.

Thankful for a God who gives me mercy and grace when I have a temper tantrum and yell and scream and kick, trying to get my own way.

Thankful that he knows best.

Thankful that I won't be left in this place, that I can be restored.

Thankful that my heart will heal and I will continue to keep going because I need to.

Thankful that there is something that I can't even imagine or fathom that is going to come from all this brokenness.

Today I am praying for beauty in the brokenness.

Beauty from the ashes. 
That I would see it.
That I would receive it.

wildolivetees.com

Isaiah 61:3 The Voice (VOICE) 3 As for those who grieve over Zion, God has sent me to give them a beautiful crown in exchange for ashes, To anoint them with gladness instead of sorrow, to wrap them in victory, joy, and praise instead of depression and sadness. People will call them magnificent, like great towering trees standing for what is right. They stand to the glory of the Eternal who planted them.

Be Still My Soul

This is my prayer today.

That I am so still that I will be able to hear that still, small voice.

That in the stillness I will hear answers to prayers being prayed.

That I will be able to rest in the stillness, to just be.

To be present, to be fully aware.

Filled with joy.

So full of joy.

To be so thankful and grateful for all the blessings in my life.

That this stillness will just let me live and breathe in all of these blessings, the big and so encompassing and the so very little.

That I may appreciate this life that has been given, so much more than I have been.

To not take for granted these moments, because they are passing me by all too quickly.

That I will live fully in His promises and reside and rest in the peace and stillness only He can give.

Amen.

(Music/Song by Kari Jobe)

To Me, Spring is....

Warm Cups of Coffee on Chilly Spring Days

Bright Flowers Blooming

Rain Drops Falling

 What is Spring to you?

The longest wait is....

....is, well, it's really long.

Or, at least it seems that way.

Waiting is always seemingly, impossibly, long.

It's been 6 months, and still here we are.

Waiting. Wondering. Hoping. Praying. Waiting.

It seems like we've been standing here in this long line, that is never ending, just waiting for our turn.

Seeing people cut in line, right in front of us. It's not fair. It doesn't seem fair. We're being patient. We're trying to be patient. We're waiting.

So sometimes we pout, and we cry, and in amongst the tears we talk and we laugh, we give hugs that we embrace in longer than we used to. We tell each other we love the other, more often than we used to. We notice the little things that the other person does, and we appreciate it more than we used to. We are growing together, in You, and learning more about You than we used to.

And through all this we still wait.

We are more hopeful now than we used to be, because you have shown us this hope in so many ways in the past 6 months. You have poured out your blessings on us, and provided for us and sent us love through people and your Word, and reminders of your faithfulness spring up and bloom all around us.

But we want it too. We long for it. You promised us the desires of our heart. We know you want to give us those things, because those things are the things that you desire for us in our lives, for us, and we know you will give us these things, because that is your promise. You've never broken your promise. And I know you won't break it now either.

Because you know I am waiting.

You know we are waiting.

And, You know what we are waiting for.

We give it to you.

We trust you. 
We love you.
We praise you.
We thank you.

The Sound of Silence

Silence. 

It can be so quiet and yet so loud all at the same time. 

There has been a lot of silence, here on this page, in this blog, and also in my life.

I have not felt the need or the desire to post here because honestly, I had nothing to write. The words wouldn't come no matter how much I tried.

I have been in listening mode. Waiting for answers. Listening. Being still. Praying. Thinking. Hoping. Dreaming. Listening some more.

I have felt the silence so loudly that it hurts. Deep into my innermost being, it is truly painful at times and overwhelming to the point where I don't want the silence, I long for noise and loud and things that fill my head and my days so that I don't have to be in the silence, in the still place anymore.

It is too quiet and I have felt so alone, on my face and crying out for the silence to end, for doors to open, for where He is leading me.

But still I am waiting. Listening for that still small voice.

For answers to "what's next" and for when, and why and how?

I know He hears me when I call to him. He has been keeping track of all my tears. He longs to fulfill the desires of my heart.

I know all of these things, so I pray and talk to Him and tell him everything that is going on my life, just like best friends do. Still, there are no answers. I do not hear Him.

That loud silence creeps in.

I am waiting. I am longing. I am hopeful.

Even in the silence I know He is there. I know He does not leave or forsake me. I know how much He loves me.

So I sit in the stillness, in the silent place. Listening. Waiting for Him to speak into my heart, into my life. Longing for Him, for His voice.

I know He is trying to teach me something, even through the silence, and I want to learn and to know what that is so desperately.

So I will wait. I will listen. I will pray. I will sing. I will rejoice, even in the silence.

 Because I know He is working something in my life that I cannot even begin to imagine or fathom.