Soft

So there's this thing... it's kind of strange, but not necessarily unexpected.

It's happened before - when alot is going on.

In my heart, in my emotions.

When I am in this surreal place of feeling suspended between the realities of my day to day life and the movement of change


I can't write.

You know me -


She writes to process


She writes to worship


She writes to tell a story


She writes to remember


She writes to grieve


She writes to rejoice...

She who does all that...can't write right now.

I will. -I just know that at some point the words will come rushing in every direction and likely not dry up... until next time.

But in the mean time,

I am learning what it means to pray in a wrestling-with-darkness kind of a way.

I am learning what it means to invest in the lives of people I care about - and then give all I have invested to God.

I am finding myself holding my breath while I enter into a very, very hard month full of difficult milestones and memories for another dear family who I care deeply about.

And in the midst of all that is stretching me right now,

I am engaging in 8 days of Spiritual awakening at our church.

Solid Biblical teaching and worship.

Two hours every night,

Two hours of teaching, specifically geared towards woman, Tuesday and Thursday morning,

Four hours last Sunday, this Saturday, and this coming up Sunday,


I have to be honest here - I am feeling drained

-exhausted mentally and emotionally.

I keep telling God to just let me process all that is going on - to give me a breather to stop and try to bolster up some kind of protection around my heart.

Because it feels all vulnerable and soft.

It feels exposed.

I wanted to enter this week of revival rested,

fresh,

ready (my definition of ready).


Instead I entered it empty,

after sleepless nights,

in the midst of a spiritual battle.


And even as I was saying,

"God, let me recover first,

I want to do this, I want to invite you to awaken my heart and seek you with all that I am,

But all that I am is just so little right now.

So soft,

so vulnerable,

not ready.

Give me some time..."


Isn't that how we are?


God knows that's how I am.

And I can just see his smile... "Wendi, Wendi, Wendi."

Where I see weakness and exhaustion

He sees brokenness and a spirit ready to receive.

Where I see vulnerability, and label it bad,

He sees a lowering of pretense, and calls it good.

He sees tender,

moldability,

losing my strength to find His.

And even in my desperate pleas for a break; a minute to gather myself.

He says,

"I have you right where I want you".