Blip. Blip. Blip.
Bfffff. Tshhhhh. Bffff. Tshhhh.
The hospital machines are rhythmic and steady. Supporting life, where it isn’t. IV drips, holding fluids and medicinal cocktails run down, like a trail of wires.
“Please Father, God Please.”
These were the same words I’d been saying for the last few weeks, and last night, they were even more desperate.
Jen's* hand rested in mine, her eyes stayed closed too, too weak to open. Across the small room, Andrew* was in a chair, sleeping only because of exhaustion and worry.
“Please God, Please.” It felt like the only thing I could say right now.
“Please God,” I rested my head on the bed; “please, I can’t lose another friend.”
I wanted Divine inspiration right then. I wanted some bible verse to magically appear and reassure me. But it didn’t.
I wanted someone to tell me it was okay, that everything was gonna be fine and that shed be back up on her feet in a few weeks...but they didn’t.
Instead the Nurse came in and told me that visiting hours were over, and that I should say my goodbyes.
She stood there quietly as I squeezed Jen's hand and tried not to tremble too much... As Andrew sat there blankly, trying to not break.
I made it out the doors, but I broke down in my car. Sobs that wracked my whole body, and lungs that struggled to find air amidst my tears...tears of anguish. It wasn't sorrow, not even hurt; just, anguish.
I yelled until my voice was hoarse, screaming at God, screaming at myself.
I sat for two hours, unable to move, just crying. When I finished, that quiet numbness that seems to accompany any grief, slipped around me. And I was silent, save the occasional shaking sob that escaped.
“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.”
No God, please.
“let me walk upon the waters...”
Please, I’m not strong enough for this.
“wherever you would call me”
I shook my head, as tears which somehow formed from dry eyes began to flow again.
“take me deeper than my feet could ever wander”
I was biting my lip hard enough to taste iron, and the shaking sobs began again as the song continued to pour over me, just that bit.
“and my faith will be made stronger, in the presence of my Savior.”
Again and again, those words, like salve, flowed. Two hours turned into two more, and still the song continued in my soul. I felt like David’s men in that moment, who “cried until they could cry no more.”
I drove home, and slept through what was left of the night. Knowing that all I could do was rest in the arms of Heavenly Father. This wasn’t in my hands, and I needed to not pick it up.
I awoke with only one word resonating in my heart:
“Lean.” Lean into Abba-God. Lean into His word. Lean into his heart. Lean into the people of God around me. Lean into truth. And most of all, lean into the everlasting arms of the Father and just be held.
The update this morning only said that Jen's condition had worsened overnight, and that it was good I had come to see her.
But beloved, despite these, I will choose to lean into my Maker.
I will choose to stand on the promise that He will never forsake me. I choose to not be bitter.
But I also choose to understand I don’t have to be okay all the time. In fact, the whole reason I must lean into Father is because I can’t be okay this whole time. And that’s okay.
I don’t know what tomorrow is going to tell me, I don’t know what will happen. I can only live today. Today, and not tomorrow.
I can only heal today… and if I don’t heal today, if I break down and am a mess. that’s okay.
I’m not okay, not right now. And that’s okay.
*Names have been changed for privacy purposes.
"I will trade them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for grief, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. that they may be trees of righteousness" Isaiah 61:3
I was extremely overwhelmed today, my heart was overflowing, and not really in the way I wanted it to. No, it was more in the way that drained me. So much so, that by the time I got to my music lesson, I was almost in tears.
I sat there in the parking lot, my mind trembling and my body shaking, “I can’t God, I just- I cant! Please, I can’t...” I called my music teacher, and explained that I was making a last minute cancellation (yes, I realize it was a low move.) and I just began to drive. I drove and drove, taking as many back roads as I could, letting the anxiety and stress be washed away by the tears that had begun to flow. I began to open my heart before my Abba Father, breaking down my desperation in his presence. And I felt him there, as I drove, it was as if he was sitting beside me, just quietly listening, not saying a word, and honestly, that was more frustrating.
“Turn”What? I felt the nudge again,“Turn” Okay! Okay! I’ll turn!
I found myself traveling up a small dirt road, nothing but the melting snow around me. “Stop” I did. “Okay God,” I said as I climbed out of the car, “I’m here, whatever that means.”
The little turns and nudges of the spirit had led me to a barn. Old and breaking down, lichen growing up its sides with the roof sagging. It was beautiful, in a rustic, sad sort of way.
I Pulled out my camera, (cuz yeah I am that person) snapping a few photos before turning to go back to the car, but I stopped again, it was like some type of irresistible curiosity had consumed me. So I climbed the fence, and headed over to where doors had once been.
Inside, it felt like a whole other world; sunlight had found its way in amongst the holes in the roof, and broken pieces of mirror shattered it into a million pieces… a mosaic of light upon the old walls. And for a moment, I forgot everything. I let myself be enveloped int the light, engaging in community with my maker. I began to be filled, overwhelmed again, but this time, by the presence of the Holy Spirit washing over me. My heart and soul began to overflow, and I could physically feel God.
Time stood still, and so did I; unable to move as I basked in a moment unlike any other I’ve ever had. I can’t tell you all that happened in that singularity, but when I stepped out of that old barn some two hours later, everything that I’d held inside me, the grief, frustration, exhaustion, anger and pain? It had all just been cleared away, now held by Jehovah-Rapha; the God who heals.
God met me. In the unlikeliest of places, in a spot only he could have appointed, a place where he knew my heart would be softened… In the old, broken barn, I found beauty. In a place full of shattered things, there was splendor.
How so this pictured my life, all the pieces that I counted broken and useless, that only hurt me to acknowledge, Abba was asking me to give to him, to let Him take them and create beauty from my brokenness; to create a masterpiece.
A wise woman once said “Where there is no lack, there is no need for the Spirit to move”* How right she is, for when I am weak, unable to do things in my own strength, then must I lean on my Savior, just as I was always meant to.
Take a moment to hear the heart of God, to understand what He is saying to you, to let Him meet you.
to let Him be the God who is, who was, and the God who will always be.
*quote can be found here