Look at the what the light did

I like the way the light hits through the window when it’s 3 pm. It’s anxious I can tell to reach my face, but I hide under stacks of to-dos that have nothing to do with being responsible, but rather, responsive. I keep x-ing boxes of inquiries because I don’t think I am called to coordinate unorganized people or walk your dog, but  I am called to organize the coordination of prayer, talent and the timing that is my person. It’s hard to tell what timing is when I hide under stacks, but I guess 3 o clock is a good indicator that there isn’t much time left so maybe I should stop eye-flirting with my fellow coffee shop dweller and start flirting with the submission of resumes and creation of cover letters.

But then again, maybe not, because time, when measured well is abundant.

If I could live off my declaration of independence from ever having a 9 to 5 I would be a happy woman. Maybe happy isn’t the right word, but I’d for sure be the woman I think I’m meant (hate that word) to be. I would also just be happier if all the Bloody Marys I consumed were free. But my vices advise me to drink and be merry and to get to know the people around me and to invest wholly and honestly. So I have, will and am learning how to continue that specific calling and also afford a crown for my tooth*.

Yet still there is a tension in my bones of late.  Thankfully it is quickly remedied with the fact Jesus is faithful and that my thankfulness is thankfully not as fickle as I am. Because as I live, and breath and sip this espresso, I’m completely at a lost for words why I get to sit here and shout my dreams while landing safely in a home built upon peace, hope and immense love. I also have come to grips (while we’re getting personal) with that fact this has become my one and only diary, so please lock it back up after you eavesdrop this solo coffee date I’m having.

I hope a lot of things, but I’m hopeful about much more. And today as I catch the light retracting from it’s attempts to reach me, I all of a sudden am vying for it’s attention hoping for a tomorrow filled with more grace and patience. And though it feels like the light is well out of my reach, I know Faithfulness will bring me an opportunity to hid or show my face. So I’m challenged to be honest with the expressions I display–even if it communicates I want to hide. Because things are so good. And goodness should be displayed and expressed. Like how the light shines through the window this time of day. And this reminder is for solely me, though meant for us both.

*Previous post shall explain my dental reference.

Advertisements

I forgot Jesus was my Comforter because my mouth freakin’ hurt.

I like, I need, I want, I choose. Four different prefaces we often jumble to equate one value, and when in honest perspective, each make us very different kinds people.

I like coffee. I need friendship. I want unlimted data for my phone. I choose to follow and trust Christ. What a scale of varying desires and what a responsiblity I have to embody as I serve as the gauge of these very things that can make or break my day. Or in this case, my back molar.

This call to responsibility is ever so present since perspective itself has come to mind as of late due to a recent root canal that has bestowed me with it’s annoying and painful presence. Some of you might feel bad for me while others might think I’m greatly blessed (and couldn’t care less because you know worse pain) BUT the point is, there is a lesson somewhere between the cursing of the sky and the crying of the face that I want to surely make note of.

Already I can tell you, when my perspective if off, I’m WAY off. And I forget about Jesus as my comforter because my mouth freaking hurts. 

Like most of us who know when we are about to sneeze was my inconsolable desire to have a really good cry during this dental drama. I’m regretfully regretting my baby cries by way of this blog, but here it is and here I am, so bear hug me man.

As I sat in my living room waiting for my third dentist appointment (in 36 hours) to finally get my root canal, hands cupping the left side of my mouth and hair tied in a greasy high bun, the initial subtle dampness below my eyes trickled and turned into the inevitable and long awaited flood. Relief and clarity sprang up and holy perspective revisited my understanding. It is SO easy to get into a posture of self-pity when you’re in pain and feel weak. In addition, it’s even easier when you don’t have insurance or your mommy, lover or bff  around to take care of you. All of a sudden, a bummer of a circumstance is propelled into a lens of ultimate pity turned anger turned river of tears. Enter the visual I painted so humbly for you.

Suffering is hard, but this all challenged me to become more acquainted with suffering well–because when we do, we are bound to forego all that other stuff that involve things like forgetting Jesus. When we suffer well, our focus is on our Comforter more than our discomfort. When we suffer poorly, essential tools turn into a bad thing. In my case, independence was branded by loneliness. Absurd questions came into play such as “how come I have to do this all myself?” when really, it was simply a poor question asked by a poor spirit.  The challenge lies in the awareness and action to make certain that ( in my case) independence would  lead to a final dependence on God and not resentment in my solitude–in my aloneness but fulfillment in his peace, his presence.

And though this is a pretty sad scenario, and I do think we are allowed to be sad, the ultimate sadness is actually forgetting the ultimate Comforter when we find ourselves with such a poor stature which is the inevitable poor spirit. This kind of spirit is forgetful, it’s jealous and it’s really angry. It’s stuck. That how you know when you don’t suffer well I think. And in no way does this spirit welcome the kind of healing that it necessary for relief and clarity to enter.

I’d like for this pain to go away. I need this pain to go away. I want  pain to go away. I choose to let God take care of this pain. When I rely on the first three, I’m the kind of person who kicks and screams and forgets and gets stuck. When I’m the last, I’m the kind of person who knows comfort and suffering is a hand in hand kind of thing.