the crisp air fills my lungs as my feet hit the pavement. the paths are new to me since i’m running and walking while waiting to pick up my oldest from her school the next town over. i’ve gotten lost a time or two as my mind focuses on the inner language happening in my soul rather than the names of the streets i’m on.
it is not consistent, this exercise thing, but it is important to me. instead of quitting because of the lack of consistency, i just keep watching for the opportunities and take them when they come.
and so it goes with everything else. a teen who wants to talk deep and so the dishes wait and i sit. a book with words that nourish and so i take a chapter when a free ten minutes appear. creativity springs forth and so i respond, creating a mess in an already messy space. writing in the cracks. exercise on car-pool days. there is nothing controllable or predictable here, somewhat because of the season of life i’m in, but mostly because of who i am.
the God i love has been distant, quiet, and so my footing feels shaky. doubts attack and the unpredictability in the day to day threatens to wear me out. i have a son who needs routine and predictability and to know what is happening tomorrow and what exactly is a macadamia nut that is in this different granola bar you decided to get this time?? and i have a family who need to be fed by a mom who is present, and a body that needs exercise and a soul that needs books and creativity and words written on a page. through the distance, there is still the constant; “help me here Lord,” along with the deep “thank yous” of the day to day sort, but the predictable solid ‘quiet times’ disappeared so very long ago.
i fumble through the opportunities snatched to be still and quiet with my Savior, aware of the dullness i feel, i puzzle at the way He is present in all the above situations; giving me words to say, words to type, patience to respond. how can He be so present and seemingly so far away all at the same time? i don’t know. i don’t understand this struggle.
i am a fumbling exercis-er, fumbling writ-er, fumbling pray-er. just like on those paths one town over, i feel lost. but instead of quitting i remind myself that the One who sits on the Throne has invited me to call Him Father, has promised that He never leaves nor forsakes.
and He knows the way home.
to draw further in: Revelation 4 with Rev 7:9-14 and Romans 8.