We Pack, We Unpack

Marked with emotions that have been best expressed in solitude, this month has been  both trying and treasured.

From conversations with best friends, family, pastors and with that one big tree in my neighborhood, I’ve gathered enough information to conclude that I am first and foremost loved and cared for.  No newsflash, but a memory that has seeped away into my consciousness making it difficult for me to acknowledge it as often as I should.

When change is subtle, at it’s height it’s incredibly emotional. I can’t tell if this change is subtle or not, but everything surrounding it does not feel that way. Then again, I’ve cried at the most obscure times this past month, SO I actually can tell.  I feel with this change comes this greatest responsibility–and that is to be responsible for myself. It helps I guess that my mom has been reminding me that I will have to buy toilet paper now and that I should stop at stop signs because the tickets are almost 300 dollars to date. God bless her heart. Folks, these are signs of when a momma lets her child go out into the wild. And the wild it is, because moving out (sans the college and abroad trips kind) is wild. Like unknown, make your own food, pay for toilet paper, wild.

The reality of it all though vast has framed my life in a way that is notably influential. And to have the power of affecting others (and more so myself) is a power that has turned out to be incredibly fragile. Yet whether heavenly or hellish, my roller coaster heart is truly on it’s way to  finding an altitude of acceptance and peace all beheld by a stubborn risk.

And since circumstances change so often, I suppose what this all really is, is the battle of the flesh and the bone inside of me functioning and living out these  systematic meets abyss-like changes gracefully and well. Things change. We pack, we unpack. So in this process of packing my things, thoughts of my source of strength unravel and I see a God that has remained throughout all circumstances and transitions. I’m simply moved to meditate on His faithfulness, because throughout all my roller coasters of emotions, of relationships, of dreams–of all the change, is the steadfastness and faithfulness of God.

This month has easily propelled me towards this prayer for June and beyond.

That God’s faithfulness—whatever, however, whenever it decides to be the obvious and blatant truth that it is, may it be unrelentingly attached to my spirit and be ahead, before and beside me.

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Today’s truth (and tomorrow’s)

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.