Still, I put one foot in front of the other, mostly because that makes more sense than falling to pieces. I mean, heavens, what would I do with my time if I fell apart? The world will never know, it's just not how I was knit together. And for that I'm grateful. Keeping it together seems like a lot less work than letting it fall apart.
There's so much much I'm not sure of - an experience like this does rock one to the core. Although I still cognitively believe in the goodness of God and his complete sovereignty that also allows us individual agency, I'm not feeling much of that truth right now. And that's ok, I know that God's passion for me doesn't change with my feeling and that he's patient and gracious and still pursuing me. I pray that my heart will again open to the possibility of perfect love.
But one interesting thing I've noticed as that all of this leaves me longing for Heaven with a yearning deeper than I've ever felt. I don't want Heaven just as an escape from all of this (although that is undeniably attractive), but the reality that some day I will experience life, earth, color, love, and wholeness as it was intended as they were intended has taken on new richness in these past weeks. I want that. I want Eden, the presence of God, the glory of this world as he originally intended it.
I've also been reminded that all of this "God doesn't give you more than you can take" stuff is bullshit. God never promises life will be copable. He never promises that he'll open windows or show me the silver linings of rainclouds. That stuff is simply unbiblical; catchy phrases that look cute in vinyl letters on walls.
What the Bible does say is that he promises to be with me. He promises not to leave me. He promises he will never let me go. He promises to be my rescuer and strong tower. He promises he is working. But he doesn't promise that I can handle it. He doesn't even promise that I'll feel him near.
I can't handle this. And I don't have to. Because he promises I can cast my burdens on him, all day, every day. Burdens real, burdens imagined, burdens feared - all of it.
So that's what I do.
And I treasure the small mercies that do demonstrate his nearness - the meals people bring, the cards folks send, the flowers that brighten my table, encouraging conversations with Steve, my childrens' resiliency, some fresh snow in the mountains, a good night's sleep, and little hugs like this gem in my reading today:
I learned God-worshipHeart-shattered lives? Check. Now bring on the heart of worship and notice from God.
when my pride was shattered.
Heart-shattered lives ready for love
don't for a moment escape God's notice