we are waiting…
we have not forgotten.
it’s been cold these last couple weeks. following an unseasonably warm fall, we’ve leaped off a cliff from 60 degrees down to 2. wind whips while this mother and her son run across the parking lot dashing into the warmth of the auditorium. shortly i’ll watch my boy dutifully put on his band concert-yawning and looking around as his stick keeps time on the cymbal. he’s frustrated and bummed that his favorite teacher of all time took another job this year, leaving him behind to yawn his way through with one who yells at him if he attempts to jazz things up a bit. “maybe things will be better next year in high school,” i offer-the only consolation i can think of-wondering if it sounds as lame to him as it does to me?
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she turns the 6 month chip around and around between thumb and finger, “i don’t understand why i would be tempted now? i KNOW there is no life there, so why these urges to use again?” this friend of hers fumbles through a prayer, hoping beyond hope that the One who hears will tend His little lamb as the Shepherd that He is.
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one of them sits comfortable and warm, in her fancy house with her fancy car and faithful servants to come and care for her child and clean her house. another sits in a church, homeless and alone, but a warm bed and a home cooked meal greet her each evening as she and her toddler enter. their lives seem so vastly different…..yet so very much the same. they battle their guilt and shame, deflecting off on to any inanimate object, seeking absolution from a statue made of wood. her mind says it’s working, but her heart knows no release from the misery of living under shame’s heavy hand. i wonder if there is any hope? the only remedy i have to offer is left behind with the dinner as they each leave their respective table. “thank you for coming.” says one as i gather my coat. “thank you for giving me a comfortable place to rest.” says the other as i make the rounds to lock up for the night. tonight one will lay her head on an air mattress, the other a feather pillow. tonight both will sleep with their souls crushed under a weight they cannot lift.
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type, delete, type delete. i struggle to pray. struggle to find words. my tounge feels tied. fatigue weighs heavy, thoughts swim around and around and around. i had words yesterday when worship overwhelmed me. i come faithfully to meet with the Object of yesterday’s worship, to draw on His strength, to find my words again. just as i cannot force Him to appear in a way that i can grab hold of, so i cannot force words to flow in a way i can grab hold of either. this advent i longed to offer more here. but this is all i’ve got.
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we are all waiting. my boy who is finding the class he used to love the most to be the one he likes the least. my friend longing for the day when the urge to use is truly forever gone, never to catch her off guard again. the two ladies i shared separate meals with, one homeless, the other affluent, both needing release from themselves. and me, fighting for words to come, waiting for them to flow when i am able to receive them, pin them down, and share them here. we are all waiting…..
rejoice! rejoice!
Immanuel
will come to you
o Israel.
in the wait…..i
have
not forgotten.
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