I'm struggling today. There I said it. No actually this has been going on for several days now. Hence, my absence. Sometimes I hate having questions and no answers to them. This is one of those times. I am so tired of hearing myself say, "I don't know".
And so goes the tears.
Yes, if you haven't notice I'm a crier. Always have been and always will be. It is my way of connecting with Him. Wow. It is funny how that just came out. I know it is something I have always done. But now it makes sense. It's what happens when the two become one, when my thoughts, my feelings, the essence of me are met with His presence. The waters begin to flow.
I hang my head in surrender and watch as a puddle forms on the surface of my desk. My shoulders relax and I take a deep breath. There is relief in knowing He sees I'm struggling. How I desperately need for Him to see that. I need for Him to interject Himself. And He does. Because my tears have invited Him.
I've let the brave face go. I've stopped pretending. I'm identifying with all that is hurting. The contractions are back and I'm reminded. I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT HIM. Why do I keep trying? Isn't it the trying that continues the struggle. Yes, its the trying that gets me in trouble, every time. My own efforts. My own strength. Who am I kidding? I can't do this. I can't do this alone.
The fog is finally lifting and the words, "Your Spirit's water to my soul" take on new meaning. I have often wondered about these tears I cry. Tried to stop them. Been embarrassed by them. But they are a part of who I am or maybe whose I am. Probably both.
As a small child, five maybe six, I could be found sitting in front of the stereo with tears rolling down my face. This I can see like it was yesterday. This is me then. And yes, little did I understand that even then He was speaking.
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My daddy had a love for music and always had it going. After he began to fall in love with Jesus, most of what he played was about Him.
"Thank you God for my daddy. For the ways he demonstrated his love for You. The music that filled our home. The feel of the leather bible cover that he crafted with his own hands to guard the Word that he was learning to cherish and hide in his heart. His kindness toward strangers and how he could never look the other way when someone was in need. These things made it feasible to reach for grace in the tough times that we seemed to be at odds and my mind wanted to question his love for me. Only a girl knows how much she needs the love of a father."
My mama would always ask, Laci is everything okay? I never had words to describe what I was feeling. I was drawn and we collided, my God and me. To think now how the Holy Spirit has always visited me.
And yet I forget and I struggle. I try hard and I fail. But what once took months to see has now dwindled to days. Slowly, I'm getting it.
Lord, You, make all the difference. And You are the answer to everything. Cause my "I don't knows" to become "God knows" and let that be more than enough for me.
And so goes the tears.
Yes, if you haven't notice I'm a crier. Always have been and always will be. It is my way of connecting with Him. Wow. It is funny how that just came out. I know it is something I have always done. But now it makes sense. It's what happens when the two become one, when my thoughts, my feelings, the essence of me are met with His presence. The waters begin to flow.
I hang my head in surrender and watch as a puddle forms on the surface of my desk. My shoulders relax and I take a deep breath. There is relief in knowing He sees I'm struggling. How I desperately need for Him to see that. I need for Him to interject Himself. And He does. Because my tears have invited Him.
I've let the brave face go. I've stopped pretending. I'm identifying with all that is hurting. The contractions are back and I'm reminded. I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT HIM. Why do I keep trying? Isn't it the trying that continues the struggle. Yes, its the trying that gets me in trouble, every time. My own efforts. My own strength. Who am I kidding? I can't do this. I can't do this alone.
The fog is finally lifting and the words, "Your Spirit's water to my soul" take on new meaning. I have often wondered about these tears I cry. Tried to stop them. Been embarrassed by them. But they are a part of who I am or maybe whose I am. Probably both.
As a small child, five maybe six, I could be found sitting in front of the stereo with tears rolling down my face. This I can see like it was yesterday. This is me then. And yes, little did I understand that even then He was speaking.
.JPG)
My daddy had a love for music and always had it going. After he began to fall in love with Jesus, most of what he played was about Him.
"Thank you God for my daddy. For the ways he demonstrated his love for You. The music that filled our home. The feel of the leather bible cover that he crafted with his own hands to guard the Word that he was learning to cherish and hide in his heart. His kindness toward strangers and how he could never look the other way when someone was in need. These things made it feasible to reach for grace in the tough times that we seemed to be at odds and my mind wanted to question his love for me. Only a girl knows how much she needs the love of a father."
My mama would always ask, Laci is everything okay? I never had words to describe what I was feeling. I was drawn and we collided, my God and me. To think now how the Holy Spirit has always visited me.
And yet I forget and I struggle. I try hard and I fail. But what once took months to see has now dwindled to days. Slowly, I'm getting it.
Lord, You, make all the difference. And You are the answer to everything. Cause my "I don't knows" to become "God knows" and let that be more than enough for me.
Sorry. Came across this as I was having a bad time with God. Loved your post... how it speaks to me in ways. Thanks.
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