Do not let me forget the way you lift up
my head, though my
body shivers, sweats-
you will find a way today
to make me smile–an undercurrent of joy you
use to fix me up. Abba;
your embrace asks nothing
but rest. So
I’m writing this poem and started feeling maybe I didn’t set the timer because 5 mins is taking wayy too long. But then I have 20 seconds left and write the word, so.
Waiting is hard. I honestly thought I was a patient person, but even though I can’t run or rush as quick as another, my insides are all: come on, God!! Please please please! This is burning me up. These dreams that keep swirling around inside and making me smile/freak out with fear.
And then I get sick. And try pushing open more doors he clearly wants me to wait on.
Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been us.
He whispered this to me in the night. And then I read the rest of the chapter and caught how grace is used 3 times, Jesus reaching out to be near me, bless me. His presence.
I don’t understand his plan. I don’t like feeling crazy, like I can’t sleep because the longing is deep and wide and long and the expectation is making me feel like it’s Christmas.
I think he’s making me die to hurry. To trying to figure all out and push him to give me answers right this very minute.
Rest, he says. In my love.
And this is why. (Too much happiness for my soul. Or just enough. ☺️🙋)