It is past midnight. I feel frustrated and tired. The Kismet is still awake, unable to sleep easily. I know my little one is probably more frustrated and tired than I, but…still, I feel I have reached my limit.
“GO TO SLEEP DAMN IT!”
I can see her feelings are hurt. She cries and cries and I feel defeated.
“Do you want to nurse?” No.
“Do you want to sleep?” No.
“Do you want some water?” No.
“Can I hold you and we dance slowly and sing?” Yeah.
And we do. And just like that I am redeemed.
I am learning something that may prove too provocative for some. Nevertheless, it is drawing me ever closer.
“Not my will but Thy Will be done, oh Lord” frequently resounds amongst the largest congregation to the smallest prayer group. Collectively we, of course, lay claim to knowing what His ultimate Will is (or we pretend to know lest we find ourselves shamefaced before our Brethren). The importance of the Collective Body/Bride is for another day. The singular, very personal and at times intensely private walk with our Lord influences the Collective more than we think. And it is in this walk that we leave the comfort of the Collective to go home and repeat the same “Not my will but…” with a little less abandonment. And often with tears and an intensity that is so because of a secret, quiet resentment.
“WHY NOT MY WILL?”
And then feeling slightly ashamed at thinking something so decidedly un-Christian. But let me tell you, I found a Holy Respite while frazzled, ashamed, annoyed and sitting on my toilet. Right there–brushes and combs and lotions and creams scattered all about. Right there–mirror streaked, water spots from flicked toothbrushes, cat litter strewn all over the tiles. Right there, this drops into my spirit: “My Will is to shape and guide. To help you define your will within the confines of My Love and Mercy and Grace.” Holy Respite.
Thoughts of my same desires for my own little Kismet arose to further cement this truth. I don’t want her to be a Good Little Girl Automaton, irrespective of her autonomy. I want her to be Kismet, strong and free within the safety of my watchful eyes and comforting arms. I desire to guide her toward that which is good and whole. To aid her in the shaping of her will and desires to be most beneficial for her (and in turn the Collective).
I flushed that secret resentment and got up a little more free. Because He wasn’t asking me to relinquish my autonomy. My desires. My will. He was asking me to allow Him in. To edit. To fine-tune. To aid. All within the parameters of His Presence.
And there I love to be.
Lord, I’m saying I need You in this capacity.
And I started in the middle because something quietly terrifying and gripping threatens to hold me in its comfortable silence. So I have to force it out before I truly realize what I’m doing and LORD, I NEED A FRIEND.
I am tired. Soul disheveled. Hair unkempt. Hormonal. Daily battling the depression Your Spirit refuses to let me embrace. I feel alone and am wondering how on Earth You entrust me to care for–to guide–this precious and fragile gift. And I am sometimes afraid that my little child can see right through me and maybe thinks I am a fraud. Because some days, there is no happiness in here. But I love You, still. And I don’t know if that shines brighter than the Darkness Your Spirit refuses to let me embrace.
And I’m telling You that I want You, NEED You to be my friend. Because I am sitting down right now to cry over some gelato I splurged on. And I want You to sit with me and this extra spoon and tell me how much You agree that everything sucks but we have each other, this pint of decadence, and a movie.
I had written the above a few weeks ago and I remember doing just as I felt that I needed. Sitting on my couch and inviting Jesus to hang with me and my extra spoon. I sobbed a little. Maybe a lot. What I clearly recall now, is the feeling of relief. Like a long conversation with a sister or best girlfriend in which one does all the talking and the other nods. I felt Him listening to me, not offering advice or a “Word”…just listening and nodding. Right now, as I type, I am realizing that He understands that sometimes what we truly need is to take a load off. No unsolicited advice. No condemnation. It was a holy moment for me. I felt His tangible Presence and His appreciation of that extra spoon.
I am Celeste.
As much healing as I’ve experienced, I still have quite a few hang-ups. The more mature I become, the more the healing process seems to change–almost appears to slow down.
[Funny how we come all shattered and humble at first, then we get all been-there-done-that-no-longer-on-the-milk-of-the-Word Christian. Must I be broken to be willing? Oh Lord, change my piety to pliability.]
I just want to be open in this space.
I just may need a proverbial pillow to cuss in from time to time.
I won’t always be all polished and sanctified…in fact, I may never be.
But He never stops freeing me.