Skip to main content

Atrophy

It's been awhile now, in so many ways.
It's been awhile since I felt like the fire-breathing dragon that I am.
It's been awhile since the boiling inspiration of lyric and chord came bubbling out.
Songwriting and blog writing have laid dormant, and my worshipping hands have settled down at my sides. I've been telling myself that I'm waiting.

A few weeks ago husband and I visited a friend's church service, filled with people whose worshipping hands are vivid free, and my heart came welling up. I finally looked down at my own self and saw my atrophy. Like a bird laying still too long, my wings laid down along my sides- torn and tattered and weak from the kind of stillness that is not rest. I let my head hang limp like my wings, and begged the Lord to restore me.

I talked through that moment with my husband, and began to see even more ugliness. In my "waiting" I had let bitterness grow. My stillness was not hopeful, expectant rest.

I held on to God's goodness.
I knew He had not forgotten me.
I knew He still had plans.
I settled that He must have growing for me to wrestle into. He must be preparing me- that's why He makes us wait, right?

I had slipped Him into those moments in parenthood when I'm intentionally aiming to teach a child something, but I'm also a little frustrated with the child.
"You can't come out of time out until your attitude has changed." All the while I roam the house with a bit of an attitude of my own.

He may very well be wanting to teach me something, but He is not vengeful about it. I had lost sight of His kindness. In those moments when I'm stuck in timeout with an attitude, He is expectantly awaiting me. He roams the house, not annoyed with my pouting, but longing for me to join Him again.

One thing He has wanted me to look at again is how I see wings. Mine are still dilapidated, and He's ok with it. I wanted Him to make them strong again. I wanted Him to breathe on me and restore my ability to soar. He hasn't, because HE WANTS TO BE MY STRENGTH. He wants me to know I'm weak and broken, and jump out into the wind anyway. Bitterness soured my faith that in my weakness He takes over. I stopped jumping because I didn't feel able, but able is not the point. When I leap, totally in faith, He gets to be my strength. He is never worn out, never frozen by wounding, never overcome by the wind He created.

My prayer is changing.
"Show me Your kindness, God."

His kindness gives me strength to drag those weak wings to the edge and leap off. His kindness assures me that He won't stand idle and let me fall too far, that He isn't watching with a twist of revenge for my stubbornness.

His kindness assures me that He will come through, and keep His promise:

Isaiah 40:25-31
25 “To whom will you compare me?
    Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One.
26 Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
    Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
    and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
    not one of them is missing.
27 Why do you complain, Jacob?
    Why do you say, Israel,
“My way is hidden from the Lord;
    my cause is disregarded by my God”?
28 Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom.
29 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Small Victory

I have a small victory to share with you:  Let me give some context... I blogged about the loss of children recently, verbally stomping my feet and telling the enemy that I will have no more of it- and that I have chosen my side and refuse to budge. The children God has given me "on loan" are all so different... Jonathan was an easy baby, and is currently a whirl-wind 3 1/2 yr old- he is FULL of energy, curiosity, music, rythm, he is friendly, relational, deep (yes, deep!), always thinking, processing, talking... He knows about God and that Jesus is real, and he knows that his baby sister Evelyn is safe with Jesus. Henry was a difficult baby, and is an easy 2 yr-old!  He adores his  brother and wants to be where he is, he gives AMAZING hugs, likes to be held, likes books, connects quickly with people, is caring, noisy, talkative, fast... and still has his innocence. He likes to pray. Evelyn has changed my life more than anything. Her body was tiny, but her exis...

Thank You

Thank you for walking alongside us, and for deeply crying out to God on our behalf. Tonight Josh and I held eachother with shaking arms, unable to breathe in our pain, with hot tears and groanings, deeper than we ever have. God is walking closely with us, teaching us, holding us. Thank you for being part of that. I can still feel little Evelyn Rose, she is still alive and moving- a continued miracle. As I sat down to pass on a little of this to some of you, here in the wee hours of the morning... in my husband's big sweatshirt, still wiping tears and snot on his sleeves (hope he doesn't mind... I'll just wash this sweatshirt before I give it back to him :) ), I had a photo file open on my desktop. I saw sweet little faces. Sweet, perfect little faces. What a joy and a privilege to raise two wild, wonderful boys. They are turning into such buddies, learning to appreciate eachother and play together instead of fighting, pushing, crying. They are innocent, energetic, curiou...

Beautiful Redemption

This weekend I tasted sweet, sweet intentional redemption from our Father... Last year I went to Women of Faith with my mom and her church. I went expecting to release the last of my sorrow over losing Evelyn. The band Selah was there, and they represent a lot of what happened in my heart while I carried Evelyn. Last year I sat in the front row of our suite with empty arms, bracing myself for the wave of pain I knew I would feel when Selah came onto the stage. The wave came crashing, and my mom wept silently with me over the daughter I will not see again on earth. It tasted bitter, but as I drank in the music, my heart healed a little more. This year as Women of Faith started, the very first song was embellished by petite ballerinas, dancing sweetly and elegantly for their Father. I sat in the front row again, this time with my arms warm with a beautiful little girl that God has loaned to me. This year the wave that hit me was actually more like a whisper (isn't it incredible h...