Hearts Home July 16, 2012
*not edited, there just isn't time to edit my ramblings today:)
“Today I saw my face, floating in a puddle of grace. Porcelain doll
with cracks to mend…” This song was my melancholy trumpet this morning, pulling
me from sleep filled with dreams of past and loss. And from that my heart awakens with tears and
hurts. “Lost hope, lost dreams, lost self” seems to be the repeated cry.
Most days I wake up ready to face the challenges of the day ahead. Today
I woke up reflective and wishing to face the past days to alter the outcome of
choices and repair the brokenness of dreams. Maybe it was brought on by visits
to a dear friend whom lives in the neighborhood I once lived in, dreamed in and
loved. I cried as I dove passed my old house of dreams and asked God to please revive
the part of my heart that has hope for the future and plans of beauty and home.
“Home is where the heart is” they say. I
have found that to be true, home is with my Lord Jesus, husband and children,
yet a house is a reflection of my nurturing, love and joy. I have not been able
to live with the passion and hope I once existed in since that day we found out
we were going to lose the little house we had made our home. I lost more than a
building when we lost our little farm, I seemed to have lost my ability to
create, hope for future and dream. I consent
that my life as the mother of four children (whom are admittedly intense little
people with needs and demands that out-weigh my abilities), adds a lack of time
to dwell on lost hopes and future dreams beyond, “I hope I finish the laundry
and dishes today” I wish I had spoken with more patience with my son last night”
and “I hope we sleep tonight”.
Most days I feel a bit like I am
drowning in a day to day endless fight that is un-winnable. I find it surprising that I still grieve our
little home…it’s been so long and I know I have cried, talked to God trusted
his presence and even let go of the position of the house both financially and emotionally.
I m even happy for the lessons God has spoken to my heart and the closeness
that was built with my husband out of the hardship we walked through together. Maybe I just haven’t ended well with our
little home. Why does my heart cry at the lost hopes and dreams, at the lack of
sunshine that doesn’t spill through my window while the bird’s song inspires my
day? Pictured in my mind are my children running through the long grass in the
field, hanging on the fence with the stormy sky behind, cooking meals of love
in my kitchen with the view of neighbor whom we know and care for and the ocean
and mountains beyond reminding me of how big my God is. It’s been Three years. Three! Would not my
heart have recovered and revived? Maybe there’s a part that never will? Maybe I
am dwelling on something right now that I should simply ignore and push back
with a prayer that it disappears?
With these
questions comes a desire to look forward. The question is how? Three years have
gone by and I feel no closer to building a home of the heart then I did when we
moved out. I feel no closer to dreaming of a future in this house then I did
when we moved in. Guilt over takes and I
try to shove it away. Guilt that I am failing those around me, that the things
I want are unrealistic and shouldn’t be desires. God’s voice whispers and reminds me guilt is
not something he wants me living in. As I turn over this guilt to him the vulnerably
of an empty spot called hope and home opens to him. “Lord, please fill me! I
want to have hope, I want to be the mother and wife who nurtures in her home. I
know this life is temporary and my heart’s true home is with you, but you made
me a women who desires to find beauty in her house here, joy in her home are
true desires rooted in the nature of my heart.”
I want to ask for specific things, to beg for him to fill the empty
spots with what I think will fill them. Yet, does he not know best, he who is the
maker of my heart? A heart he calls
home? The tune in my heart forms words. “My
hope is in you Lord all the day long, my heart won’t be shaken by trials or
storms, the peace that passes understanding is my home. ” It’s true my hope
still lives, it lives in my Lord. I
guess by placing my hopes in the chest titled “My Hopes” I’ve been putting them
in the wrong chest. The Large chest marked “Hope in you Lord” has no
limitations of capacity or content, it’s open and waiting to be filled with my
hearts deepest desires. “My hearts home”
“Dreams” “House” “Beauty” “Joy” is unpacked and deposited into the chest the
creator is uncontainable in and I wait for him. I wait with HOPE! Maybe today I
will know how he’s filling some of my hearts tears and chasms, my desires and
longings? I feel a little bare, exposed and vulnerable. I believe in my head
that God doesn’t find my hearts cries “silly, un-attainable, unrealistic or
invaluable. “Please Lord; convince my
heart because living from my head is lonely, empty and unfulfilling. I want to live from my heart, the heart you
call home!”
Today it’s time. It’s time to leave these out pouring with my Lord Jesus. The clamor of my children over power my ability stay
here with God (in the solitude of the bathroom :) ).
I have children to feed, school and love
on. Yet God goes with me even if my ability to stop and focus on him may have
passed for today. As I do those dishes, kiss my little ones (referee their squabbles) and sweep the
floors, I will wait on the Lord, looking
for his hand, listening for his voice and reveling in his presence. As my
friend Ted Whited says “God’s got this one!”
My hope is in you Lord all the daylong!
