With blankets they cover us and sooth us with milk and quiet us with locked eye and mother love. Until we cry again. Linked in to the circle of life, a cycle of cries and covering, quieting.
In a little over two weeks my life will once more come full-circle and the day of my birth will be remembered. Thirty, I'll be thirty. Inside out is how I come. It's normally easy for me to peel back the layers and lay bare my soul. Though sometimes even my honest hungry soul stands startled at truth. All these numbers later and I am still the babe naked and screaming questioning life, questioning God, "Is this it?"
Spiritually speaking I cover, I quiet my selfishness with attempts at gratitude, I grasp at the truth my life could be so much worse. I compare and come up with the better end of the stick. Until the thanks and self will slip around my feet and I'm raw before my God.
A normal Tuesday happy phone call to a friend recently un-did me. A river of tears sweep me away. Tears flowing down I looked baffled at the mirror a reflection of the girl I said I wouldn't be. I'd turn thirty with eloquence, gracious, grateful. Mirrors hold no secrets they show us what is. As I stared my tears in the eye this question rose in my spirit, "How do you really feel?"
Broken, disappointed and angry that life at thirty is far from my girlhood dreams is how I really feel. I want to be loved, chosen. I want a baby to hold. Gray strands are daily plucked as the crow's feet stare back at me. I live in a basement and my car is old. My arms are flabby. And that is only the surface of my insecurities.
People say expect little, give much, but what I can't figure out is how to expect little and still remain hopeful? Should I raise my hand at the roll call for hard to please I know others would nod approval. It's a trait I wish I could cast off like dirty shoes but it's a magnetic force that attaches to me over and over.
As hard as I am to please I am equally eager to please. I work hard at pleasing others, but even then I let them down. And myself, I let her down too.
What is the answer? Is there any hope? Jail cells, grave yards, hospital wards and a thousand other small hurts and crushed spirits tell on life. Life isn't fair echos from the preschool halls.
Great expectations dashed again and again. Selfishness fuels my questions, feeds my disappointment why type it here? Isn't that un-Christian? One of the greatest comforts of my walk with Him is knowing He has no great expectations for me. He expects me to fumble, fail, and rail fits. That is why He gave us Christ. To trample our trespasses and breath life into our dead souls incapable of being satisfied, incapable of succeeding.
When I'm in a million pieces from disappointments from others, from myself I remember who holds them all together and I take heart. He, Christ is the way, the truth and the LIFE. He breathes life back into counting thanks the locking eye with one we are dependent on, the one who joys in us.
This memory plays often on my mind's reel. The day is done and so am I the car is parked and I'm disheartened again. Weighted head sunk to the steering wheel and "All I wanna do is cry." The radio croons, "Some sweet day we'll be together, yes we will, yes we will."
There is hope, there is life in Him now, there is life everlasting and it will beat in your heart the promise to be fullfilled. One day I'll breath my last and slide right out of this world, clothed and home.
Quote read in Desire, A life changing read for me-I highly recommend it.