I put my fingers over my pulse, feeling for signs of something. She says to me tonight that it's just a season of trusting, even if it feels like season of flux. In between. Limbo. Putting so many things on hold, not on purpose, on default. Autopilot. Going through motions, feeling the pulse that says there's life, but knowing that if out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks and fingers write, this heart is running on empty.
It's not that there aren't so many things to fill it. I won't complain--the fuel of this heart is rich and in plenty. It's just that that it's flowing slowly, refilling slowly, emptying slowly.
I stub my toe on fear, catch myself on passivity, and can't right myself again. I hang in mid-air, waiting for what? Something to change. Anything to change. People keep asking. I keep saying I don't know. What else is there to say, I'm not avoiding you, I honestly just don't know.
Mostly I don't know because the thought of knowing scares me more than this place of indecision. I circle my prey twenty times before I pounce with surety. I tread water, keeping myself afloat, doing breathing exercises, before I dive with full lungs to the underwater treasure. I remember when I was young, when all the teens around me were memorizing Bible verses and getting water baptized, someone asked my mother if she was worried about the (non-existent) state of my salvation; her reply? "When Lore commits to the Lord, she will do it 210 percent, you'll see." I never forgot that, through all the tumultuous teenage years, through anger, rebellion, fear, and finally curiosity, I knew my lot would be 210 percent.
I banked on it.
So here is what I bank on, here is what I place my hope in, here is where you'll find me someday: His purposes for me are beyond my todays, my tomorrows, and my poor vision; they are bigger than my indecision and fear; they produce more than my greatest dreams and they settle more than my largest debts.
But His purpose for me today is to put my fingers over my pulse, to feel life, and trust that He's building tomorrow from today.
It's not that there aren't so many things to fill it. I won't complain--the fuel of this heart is rich and in plenty. It's just that that it's flowing slowly, refilling slowly, emptying slowly.
I stub my toe on fear, catch myself on passivity, and can't right myself again. I hang in mid-air, waiting for what? Something to change. Anything to change. People keep asking. I keep saying I don't know. What else is there to say, I'm not avoiding you, I honestly just don't know.
Mostly I don't know because the thought of knowing scares me more than this place of indecision. I circle my prey twenty times before I pounce with surety. I tread water, keeping myself afloat, doing breathing exercises, before I dive with full lungs to the underwater treasure. I remember when I was young, when all the teens around me were memorizing Bible verses and getting water baptized, someone asked my mother if she was worried about the (non-existent) state of my salvation; her reply? "When Lore commits to the Lord, she will do it 210 percent, you'll see." I never forgot that, through all the tumultuous teenage years, through anger, rebellion, fear, and finally curiosity, I knew my lot would be 210 percent.
I banked on it.
So here is what I bank on, here is what I place my hope in, here is where you'll find me someday: His purposes for me are beyond my todays, my tomorrows, and my poor vision; they are bigger than my indecision and fear; they produce more than my greatest dreams and they settle more than my largest debts.
But His purpose for me today is to put my fingers over my pulse, to feel life, and trust that He's building tomorrow from today.
posted by Lore at 27.6.08
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