raw

today i was thinking about God.
i was reading one of the psalms, and boy it's an angry one.
sometimes the psalms have a lot of hurt and a lot of pain, and a lot of times it surprises me. a lot of times the words in the psalms carry my joyful heart when i just can't find my own words. but sometimes they also hold the painful words too.
often when i'm reading an angry psalm i expect it to resolve itself at the end.
'really david, you can't just yell at God like that', i think.
surely at the end of this rant there will be a beautiful verse about how great the Lord is and how david has gotten out of whatever slump he's in and all is well with the world again.
but you know, sometimes that doesn't happen. sometimes it's just a cry for help.
sometimes there is no end in sight. sometimes, the yelling and the hurt and the fear isn't an act of anger but an act of childlike faith.
isn't that what i do when i'm in trouble? don't i go running to my dad and tell him what's wrong? don't i seek a listening soul who will hear my troubles and will comfort me? don't i need those soothing words?
why is it that i always think God doesn't want this part of me?
maybe He does.
maybe His knowledge of my heart and soul and self is bigger than my own high regard for me. He knows i'm not always going to have things together.
this doesn't need to be another place where i hide from You.
make my heart bare.

give

God is telling you this:

give me all.
i don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: i want YOU.
i have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. no half-measure are any good, i don't want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, i want to have the whole tree down. i don't want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked--the whole outfit.
i will give you a new self instead.
in fact i will give you Myself: My own Will shall become yours.

[cs lewis]

rose

i do not fear trials sent by jesus, for even in the most bitter suffering we can see that it is His loving hand which causes it.

when we are expecting nothing but suffering, we are quite surprised at the least joy; but then suffering itself becomes the greatest of joys when we seek it as a precious treasure.

far from resembling those beautiful saints who practiced all sorts of austerities from childhood, my penance consisted in breaking my self-will, in keeping back a sharp reply, in doing little kindnesses to those about me, but considering these deeds as nothing.

[st therese]

wonder-ful

i thank You God for most this amazing day:
for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky
and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;
this is the birthday of life and love and wings:
and of the gay great happening illimitably earth

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-- lifted from the no
of all nothing-- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened

[e.e. cummings]

higher

i figure we could complain about the situation
because sometimes it really is difficult
or we could offer it up
and become saints faster
and here, joy in suffering
is the greater beauty

secret heart

this afternoon was spent in solitude.
in my time of resting i discovered the strangest thing once again.
the desire to create. this time, not with words or paper or colors, but with flour and vegetables and milk and eggs and all those wonderful things that you can mix together to make something delicious.
as a budding young girl, the kitchen never was my forte. everything i tried almost always failed, and everything i wanted to do my mom could still do better. she was (and still is) my food idol. she can make anything and it always tastes good. but it wasn't even just about the food, it was about what she created for us. for her family. she was nourishing us with her love, her care, her gifts. i want to do that. i feel like i attach the same kind of significance to my own culinary creations. when i make something, it is to nourish.
it's amazing (and you'd be surprised) how one person can pour a lot of their soul into one pot of soup or one batch of cinnamon buns.
it's funny too, when i get an idea in my head i just have to create that very thing. and i'll be mighty distracted with it until it comes to life. today it was cream of potato soup and buns (my mom's recipe).
when i was baking the buns, i realized i forgot to put the eggs in. i hurriedly folded them into my dough, cringing. fahlman, you have to pay attention more. typical.
but, not losing heart after my bun disaster, i decided to try the soup. with no recipe but a lot of ideas whirling around in my little brain, i set to work.
now, a couple hours and a few setbacks later, i am savoring my creations. fresh buns (not as fluffy as i would have liked) and warm, creamy, chunky potato bacon soup. i created these things. and there really is no feeling like it.
i must admit that i wish there was someone here. this great moment needs to be shared. i want to feed someone. but i suppose it's just as sweet knowing that i CAN do this. it has moved from the realm of great possibilities to a satisfying reality. perhaps one day, like my mama, i can nourish and love people through this creating.

strong love

i look out the window
the birds are composing
not a note is out of tune or out of place
i walk to the window and stare at the flowers
better dressed than any girl on her wedding day
why do i worry?
why do i freak out?
god knows what i need
you know what i need

[jon foreman]