spring

Today is the first day of Spring. There is new life all around my house. Daffodils are up in full bloom- all of mine have been lovingly picked by my bigs and now are in a vase by my kitchen sink. Camelias are bursting with color, polka-dotting the bushes outside my front door and now one has found a new home nestled in a bud vase in the dining room. One sweet friend left a base of roses and alstroemerias outside my door yesterday; now they occupy my kitchen table. I love fresh flowers. They bring cheer to any room.

These flowers have grown in the new warmth of the Sun. Their life sustained by the Creator, picked by little girls, now soaking in water to retain its beauty but in reality they're dying. The stems of the daffodils have gone limp and the petals have turned a dingy brown. Sometimes I feel like the daffodil- I know I'm sustained by the Creator. He gives me all I need and has delighted in me. I bend toward the Son, wanting His light nourshing my soul. I want to be that light in our world.

This morning I wake up to Spring. I'm refreshed from my break but underneath is a current of weariness. I'm wearied from this world, from my sin, from pain. I need His word to revive me, to bask in His goodness. To know Him more and cling to His promises. He is with me. He has not forsaken me. He supplies my every need. In Him is joy, not in my circumstances. I confess I do try to make this world my home when I know its not. I look to the world to fill my hurts and all to often not to the Healer. O would I not be content with the pleasures of this world and not labor for that which does not satisfy. Change my heart, O God.

mary's spring break

Thursday, Dave took the girls to Charleston. He's left me here alone promising to return tomorrow by eleven so we can make a noon wedding. I asked for space and quiet. I've chosen busy and loud.

For weeks now everyone has told me to stop, to slow down, to sit before the Lord and cry out. There have been occassions where I've had time to that but its come in spurts. In the bathtub soaking in the music from the funeral. Words of hope and truth bathed in accoustic beauty. Lying still, my mind frozen yet spinning, unable to focus. Images racing.

This weekend its time for me to sit. process. What have I done? Marshalls to buy a dress for the wedding. Dinner and drinks to celebrate a dear friend's life. Cardio funk at the Y. Purging my kitchen of high fructose corn syrup and processed foods. Earthfare to reload. Everything but sit.

But here I am.

As I look at the list above of how I've spent my time its quite a clear picture of how I've been processing with the Lord. I've tried to busy myself and put the heart-work off.

The first 2 weeks were brutal. I was paralyzed with shock and grief. The overwhelming task of maintaining our home in order was crushing. Dave and I put Celia in our neighborhood kindergarten ending my short-lived career as a homeschooling mom. This was a relief. One area of stress relieved in the midst of this, leaving me time to sit and process.

I didn't though. I filled it with shopping. and eating. We were so well loved by our friends and dinners came throughout the end of February. comfort food at its best. This left me feeling bloated with sadness nonetheless. The Lord has met me in this. I hope to share some of where He's brought me these 8 weeks at some point.

But now I sit, coffee in hand, Bible opened on my lap and I still ask the same question I seem to have been asking for years. Is Jesus enough?

I say He is. I want to really live like He is. But do I?

Why do I continue to choose activities when given space and time instead of rushing to His feet, washing them with my tears? Why don't I trust Him to accomplish the things He's called me to do, instead of furiously scribbling on my calendar making lists upon lists? Why don't I run to His word for energy and life instead of to the kitchen? When will I trust Him with this pain to the depth I need to?

Lindsay sent me the Daily Light morning passage from March 7. Balm to my soul.....

You shall no longer be termed forsaken,....but you shall be called Hephzibah.
[My delight is in her]....for the Lord delights in you. As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
so shall your God rejoice over you. He has sent me....to comfort all who mourn,
to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.

Help my unbelief.

8.

8.

I count by weeks now.

My life was beautifully chaotic before then but things radially changed. Since then I've counted by weeks- not at first as hours and minutes seemed more impossible, but the Lord has taught me to now count by weeks.

My husband called that morning to let me know he was speeding towards the hospital because our precious friend Aimee was in a terrible car wreck.

Two words from above seem lacking. friend. and terrible. those words just don't seem to be enough.

This journal will serve as my way to process what the Lord is doing in my heart and how He's helped me to walk in this pain. There will be times when I step back looking into the past before January 21, 2010, and times when I linger there- on the day that never seemed to end. I'll write in the present as well and wonder about what lies ahead. I do not promise to be chronological. or clever. But I promise honesty. Here we go.