My curly girl. She adores the swing we made her. She runs to it with each front door opening. "Push me mama!" She would stay flying for hours if these arms could hold out. My eyes never tire though. Seeing what happens when I pull her up high and let her go to glide smooth. Her eyes fill with such light! She can't suppress joy giggle. Then it happens. Her eyes close. Soft smile comes on lips...And she is lost. Lost in a rhythm outside the norm. Taken up by something more graceful than the daily. She forgets and she settles in, all full of this sway. She looks so happy. So beautifully lost. Lost in moments bigger than herself. In those moments I am beside her, she reminds me without even knowing. God has a rhythm. And it can sway me soft. Sway me still above all this here. It can take me out of that mindset that grips. And I wanna be her. Eyes closed. Him never tiring of pushing me softly to heights that shape me all smile.
Sometimes hard rhythm blinds us unaware. We turn on survival mode. Clenched jaw. Claws grasping to just pull through. Do you feel it? That grip. We can survive suffocating, but we can't live. Suffocation has a vibration. It pounds. In temples of head and throb of heart. Gasping for air is no life. So why then do we choose it?
God's rhythm is always there. Air we can always breathe. He never stops drawing us.
" I have set The Lord continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will dwell securely." ~ psalm 16:8
I was sitting at my kitchen table. Those words. Like Air. They were clarity.
i had chosen to see stress. To choose the survive to get thru. Fog settled in and air got thick. I had chosen that. God never stepped back. But we sure are quick to blame Him when we do. That grieves. He bore all my sins, and I still blame Him when life hurts. When I choose to try in my own muscle, forgetting His always outstretched arms. Why do we believe the hard way will get us there quicker? Why do we believe alone-ness will be some sort of companion? In our stubborn we walk away from deliverance. So He allows it. What grace! Him. Never allowing our independence to save. That's when I felt it so strong. Gratitude. Thanksgiving for this pain.
" Thank you Jesus that it hurts without You."
So I run back home. He is always home. Maybe someday by habit, this dusty soul won't forget. Won't be so quick to trust my own bicep. Stress will come. The landlord will ask for more money than he deserves. Those conversations with your spouse will hurt. The kids will challenge you to anger thru exhaustion. We will be misunderstood. Gas in the car will run out leaving us stranded. And the headlines will make us distrust our own government. But Yeshua? He stays. He keeps singing that lullaby over us. His hand keeps holding. His heart always laid bare.
My boy tells me how hard it is to believe sometimes that talking things out with God changes things. I hear you son. Feelings lie with such strength it weakens. " Baby, you can live life trying by yourself, but you'll be blind." He cuddles in close, heart so heavy. " Mama. Maybe life without Jesus helping is like living color blind. Everything is out of focus." Oh sweet boy! Yes! From the mouth of my baby God speaks. We can live color blind. Life dull and hard. Vibrancy gone. Beauty always eluding. Or we can come back home. To Him who saves. To Him who sees all, and loves always. To Him who turns on the lights so we can truly see. Color!
You can see. The fog can lift. Inhale deep, there is air. You can get out of the hard and into His rhythm. Sit on that swing and let Him show you His sway.
Eyes close. I am all smile. This rhthym is not my own. Now I feel free.
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