Grace-period

This is me and my SUV on the way to camp. And I feel just as I look, a little terrified. See, I am not sure how to do this. I hang out with these kids on Tuesday nites at youth group, interact on FB and at church, but I feel woefully inadequate to be any type of Christian role model. But these kids, well, don't tell them I said so (which is why I am writing this FROM camp where they won't even see this post on my FB), they are amazing. They are funny and quirky and brave and beautiful, inside and out. All of them. Not just the "cool" kids.  I am privileged to hang with them. I love being picked on and being nicknamed and being a confidant and co-conspirator. I pray for them every time my head bows.  Being connected to them somehow reflects my Father to me. I don't know what it is exactly. But there is this silly holy space that fills the awkwardness. I am amazed not just by them, but by God. Again. By what he wants for them. For what he desires for them. And that ...

I don't always close doors.  In fact, my husband is always reminding me to close them.  My car door often catches on my seat belt.  My front door just doesn't always latch.  The bedroom door doesn't want to click...closed.  There is something about a clean transition from one thing to another, that closing of a door, that I don't seem to focus on. Sitting in my truck today, in my driveway because I had no where to go and did not want to waste gas on no where, I pondered about where I am.  And I am at that threshold.  That place of not there anymore and not quite there.  My door is slightly ajar because I don't know if I want to go toward what is on the other side.  My who am I and why am I and what am I doing questions are all threshold questions.  They are a door, waiting for direction.  Shall I be here or there?  Should I do this or that.  I don't know if it is fear that prevents me from closing doors....

Have I told you about my husband before? This dear man is so simple and easy when it comes to the things that I wrestle with and study and fight for.  It can be quite frustrating.  So today, when I was texting him and telling him that I am restless, excited and anxious about a job interview, he asked if maybe I should pray.  Ok, like duh. Does he really think I haven't been pleading and begging God for help?  I want to leave the results up to God, really, I do, but then I begin to worry....what if he wants me to be broke and unemployed for some reason.  I trust God, but I am not really into that. The dear husband's response: "Does he feed the sparrows..." I want to easily dismiss this so I quip back, "Yeah, but they don't need much." And I am not entirely incorrect.  I looked them up because everything is an opportunity to learn for me.  I was also surprised.  Sparrows might be simple, but they aren't so unlike us....

(Gabby, my whiny monkey girl...) My dogs are whining behind me as I write.  I feel the same way.  I am waiting and whining for His attention. I am waiting and whining for something to change. I am waiting and whining for a break. My husband thinks that they whine because I spoiled them. Perhaps, but I think they call to their mother who they know loves them and cares for them and meets their needs. And so I also wait and whine, for God. A voice of shame accuses: "You have so much already.  You have no right to expect more."  But I do.  I do because I know my Father loves me and cares for me and meets my needs...all of them...not just the ones that you tell me are acceptable. Another voice demands me to be quiet: "You are being disciplined.  You cannot expect more."  But I do.  I do because I don't discipline those I love by being absent or neglecting them in their fear and pain.  Neither does my Father. I kno...