Monday, February 28, 2011

Lessons in Unseen Weight


I close my eyes for a moment and feel the physical burn of weariness from the past few days. I am thankful to be closing up this day - the sort of day that holds a certain, unseen weight to it. The sort of day where I am aware of sirens everywhere - fire trucks, police cars, and most terrifyingly - ambulances. The sort of day where I feel close to tears at any given moment, though it is not certain why. My insecurities rise to the surface and, though I try hard to place a veil over them, it's like trying to hide behind a lamppost. The clouds toss back and forth the idea of darkness and storm, never quite sure of whether the coin is face up or tail up.

Though I try in great effort on some days to fight it, today I have given into the unseen heaviness that has seemingly slowed my steps to a crawl. I want so badly to believe that it does not exist, that it is all in my head - that I am strong enough to take on the blues in the front lines of battle. That nothing is too great to defeat me, especially something I don't even have a name for.

But no, I am only foolish enough to believe that I am invincible, that a weight cannot add pounds to my day - that I, alone, am strong enough to take on anything at any given season in my life with ease.

And I rest alone in the knowledge that my Father does not despise a bruised spirit, but cradles it like a father holding a child with scraped up knees.

Like a father waiting with open arms to a wander-lusting son, saying, "Come on, let's get the pig slop off of you. I've got a feast prepared."

Like a gardener waiting for a seed to break through the soil, patient as I am having to grow; unsure of what I will be.

I rest alone in the Loving Arms that take my bruised spirit and tell me that these bruises do not hold their sway forever. That I am not forgotten and left for dead. That I am still breathing, still filled with Life.

And life is exactly what I need to reminded of today.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

lessons in greener grass.

I just got off of the phone with a dear friend. She is currently out of the country, following her heart into the great Central American unknown, teaching youth to see the world through the new eyes of a camera lens, filming heart-wrenching film projects in one of the village dumps where many call "home," pulling a kayak out in the afternoon to catch the sunset at dusk and reflect on the day. Doing exactly what she was born into this world to do for this moment.

I am here, inland and in the safe parish walls of a city I never would have imagined my trails would lead me to. Surrounded by familiar language, familiar faces, familiar conversation, the freedom to choose where I buy my groceries, easy internet access, a job that keeps me steady and lets me sit in a room with a piano.

Both decent sounding, eh?

To hear our voices on opposite ends of the phone line, you might think otherwise. Both of us weary of separate challenges, yearnings of the heart not met in our current longing for the comfort in good, familiar conversation, the other trying desperately to not focus on the urge to pack a bag and be somewhere else in the world.

Both of us are where we need to be. But that pesky, green hue is shining on the other side of the fence and I suppose it takes a conversation of stark contrast to put it all back into perspective.

My friend will have her familiar conversation soon enough. I will have my adventures in time.

Patience. Trust. Obedience. Prayer. Contentment. Discontentment. Living presently. And gratitude.

Tonight, gratitude. Reminders of the Hand that covers me in grace and blessing and love. And the pain and goodness of growth.

Visual gratitude:
Being woken up & dragged out of the house by my brother to see the sunrise. On Thanksgiving Day, 2010.

Everyone and everything used to encourage the pursuit of passions. And willing to learn your songs for free :)

My interesting variety of jobs here in Charlotte that are living proof you can make it as a "full-time musician."

Sweet reminders of my Tennessee home. The people and places that have given me foundation to be who I am becoming.

A kindred spirit, a child that brings joy and light, conversation that brings sanity, laughter and love at local bakeries.

the promise of new adventures :)