To say I’m blessed in an understatement to the point of embarrassment. It seems sometimes there has to be another word to better exemplify the motion I find myself caught amidst so often–yet the understatement shall stand for I seldom am able to find any other word that fits.
Privileged. Thankful. Lucky. Fortunate. In reverence. Aw shux.
Sometimes I feel it most when I have absolutely no tangible proof that I’m living this awesome (oh thats a good synonym too) life. No accreditation, no trophies displayed, no gold around my neck or in my pockets, no husband to boast about, but I feel it on my skin, I feel it by my pulse. It’s like when you drink ice cold water after a long, hard run. Yeah, I’m thankful for water, but the ability to feel it flow downward in what usually is in slow motion into my esophagus, relieving my thirst, lies a thankfulness far beyond an “ahh” after gulping the 32 oz of H2o. So I’m blessed to be so blessed beyond the point of words and even oohs and ahs.
What I do know is that I am hungry to incapsulate this emotion, because it’s so life-giving.
Yet sometimes I kind of go back and forth on whether I’m really hungry or if it’s just purely the fact I don’t have complete control over what I’m feeling, so I need answers. So I grab everything in site, stuffing my face with what I hope will fill me, what I hope will give me answers. Do we eat to eat rather than eat to be filled? Do we fear and worry which spoils our spirit or do we trust and know, thus nourishing–filling our spirit? Daily, we encounter this decision that has to be made.
Hunger to know Him better.
Because I think when I aim to pinpoint why I feel a certain way (since feeling blessed I just now have realized totally feels like being fed) it’s my insistent desire that I know Him better. To know God better. Because I’ve learned I cannot even recognize my own shadow if I do not attempt to step in God’s light; being revealed to who He is gives color to my gray that is my emotion and my uncertainty and my fickle wonderments.
Since Easter is upon us as well as all the beautiful and fluffy Facebook statuses (mine included) you’ve viewed on your feed of recent, it seems all the more pertinent we–I, address this truth that is to be well celebrated tomorrow AND dare I say the day after the rest of our tomorrows.
A date on a calendar marked with great suffering has been often laced with a forgetfulness that well has truly been the death of me; my forgetful turned redeemed love meets head on with the the love marked by a death that has already been encountered and conquered. Enter: sigh.
To say I am blessed is such an understatement.
So as we enter the last day of holy week into a day marked by the blood of Christ, may we hold steadfast to the truth that what we deserve contradicts what He has so graciously preserved for us. All for us. And that though we are a constantly hungry soul, we are eternally fed by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.