Monday, September 3, 2007

The Bob Oblaw Law Blog...

"This is what the Lord says: 'When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,' declares the Lord, 'and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,' declares the Lord, 'and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.'" Jeremiah 29:10-14

Well, thaaaaaank goodness. I love this reminder. Love it so much I wanna walk down the aisle in a white wedding dress toward it. Love it so much I wanna go off to war and write a love letter to it. It's good. Very very good.

Life is very interesting for me right now. I've been hesitant to write about personal, emotional things because I don't like taking myself too seriously and I also have a really strong desire to keep things light and simple. But there is nothing simple about my world. There never has been. And, frankly, I'm pretty thrilled at the fact that God made me so intricate.

So, here's what's been going on: For the past few months, I've felt like a sheep wandering back to her shepherd. But, I wasn't just a sheep playing down by the river a few feet away from the rest of the flock. I was off off on another hill, facing a different master. Through a series of different circumstances, I've managed to turn around and wander back over to where I was supposed to be. I know I'm heading in the right direction, but I'll be darned if the journey isn't about to do me in.

The seasons of our lives, I'm learning, are so interesting and emotional and tragic and beautiful. We hang onto a dream so fiercely, make it our god, and then have to suffer the pain of shame and loss and regret because it turns out it wasn't what we were supposed to be serving. People and ideas and virtues float out of our lives like balloons and we are forced to stand there in gravity, trying to hold onto the last little bit of it, crying like children because we can't go with it, finally coming to terms with the separation and praying that it gets to where it needs to be without imploding under the weight of the atmosphere. As we suffer the trauma of the loss, our daddy grabs our hand and, as he lifts us up onto his shoulders, we pass quickly by his face and see the knowing smile there and in our confusion we somehow manage to believe that it will be okay. More than okay. We can finally look at the sky and see things other than the balloons we lost.

It's a tiresome journey, this returning. As I wander back alone, I'm forced into intimacy. I see flowers along my pathway and name them patience, and faith, and hope, and truth. These are the things I'm being schooled in right now. It's an uncomfortable lesson sometimes, but it's building a virtue in me that is so strong even my self-doubt can't penetrate it. Growing and maturing in the Lord is humbling and vulnerable and there's a reason why tears are salty. So that through our pain and brokenness we can still taste Him. He tastes goooood.

And here's a picture of Tickle because, well, she's the one who lays beside me on a pillow when I cry and looks at me like I have 22 heads.

1 comment:

Kayla said...

You, my sweet English rose, are so beautiful and i'm so proud of you for your strength even when you don't want to be strong.