Can we talk about this verse for a minute?
And God is able to make all grace [every favor and earthly blessing] come in abundance to you, so that you may always [under all circumstances, regardless of the need] have complete sufficiency in everything [being completely self-sufficient in Him], and have an abundance for every good work and act of charity. (2 CORINTHIANS 9:8 AMP)
You know what I’m stuck on? What is in the brackets after “every grace”. [Every favor and earthly blessing.] It is like a hush and something whispered in my ear: hey, you know God is able to bring every favor and earthly blessing come to you. I mean, I’ve read this verse before in other versions and have always been stuck on: abounding in every good work. Not exactly what You can give me. And yes, even thinking about it now holds some kind mystery. Because I want things. Like it would be awesome if Sarah texted randomly (I know it was You) asking if I would like Starbucks again. Just the being asked does something to my insides. You see me. It’s always when I feel like crap — where You seem to surprise me most, where my heart remembers again You see. Me.
I know this verse isn’t talking about what You give me because I know what You give goes beyond just me. But I’m so stuck on the favor. And the earthly blessing and what that means or how to even see Your favor. Would you show me these today. Please. Is it like yesterday when I bought books for me and Kallayah, even though money is tight, but I still want her to know she is loved? And that I see her and want to read through The Shack together as we wait for you to give us the go for meeting each other?
Because I think I take Your favor to mean sometimes that someone will give to me. Or that You will honor me somehow. Make me smile. I don’t know why I think of You pointing a finger, that’s my girl and I’m going to love her today. And I think Your love lately is time to rest, and pour into as I’m being poured into, too. You’ve given me time, God. Time I don’t think I would’ve had if I would’ve kept going a few years ago pretending I was fine.
I did really well with that. Pushing away friendship for a degree that was being pursued more out of fear than to better myself. I ran away, but You’ve refused to leave me.
When death came so suddenly before Christmas and I knew nothing but crying. And just feeling lost. Confused. Aching. But you deepened Megan and my friendship. She brought laughter at random times when I didn’t think it was possible. And listening ears. And cake pops. And hugs. And book recommendation. And prayer. The days I listened to Sara Groves on repeat, feeling You just surround me.
And then at the end of 2015 and sorrow over wacky hormones and blood. So much blood. And crying. And why is this happening. And Gwen, who sat there with me for a week, just her presence alone makes me relax (I know you know this) and let me drink tea and vent and cry. About a myriad of things. And read parts of a book to me. I felt small in the best way. Like Your child, wrapped in love. And how she played Come Be Who You Are by Sara Groves one day and by the end of the week, we were singing on a bench together.
And then last year, the idea of getting a hysterectomy (really this year too.) terrified me. The loss of not being able to have kids and just yearning to spend time with You was overwhelming. To be able to read and talk to friends. And just the loss of energy, not really wanting to do anything. Oh wait, I think I colored still.
And this year, the hysterectomy had to become a real thing. And the fear and the worry surrounded my heart. What will happen? What if I die? But the doctor’s eyes held so much compassion. I never thought I’d like staying in a hospital because a nurse went out of her way to feed me jello and talk about her life to me. Just being with me and allowing me to be.
I don’t know how to tell you that in all of these memories, Your favor was with me and blessings too. I just wish I was more present in the moment, instead of looking back, oh, that was you. Help me. Be present to You.
Your tender haired girl.
Ps. This ear infection really will help me be still. And hear You. To know You are God. And you know my heart. Intimacy or group. One on one or group. God, You know I’m leaning toward intimacy more. I think that’s what I’m going to do. Fear of missing out shall not plague. I’m not missing out when I’m doing something with you.
Letters From A Tender Haired Girl. <—-previous letter here.