January Chill and God's Faithfulness

The sun was warm and pleasant, the afternoon was slow and monotonous, my heart discontent and restless. I looked out the window and noticed a boy's hat hanging by the pool. The greenery suddenly looked inviting, and the sight of the straw hat brought a jolting reminder that these days with my growing boys won't last forever. I stepped outside for a moment, realizing I have altogether neglected to breathe deep, relax, and to give my burdens to the Lord. I moved toward the pool, unlocked the gate quietly and hoped not to be discovered. I had a cup of coffee in hand, hopeful for a little boost of something, and my camera because I regularly need to see beauty from a different lens than my own eyes. I needed some sort of recharge on every level.

I forced myself to be intentional, to notice, to feel. I tried laying down by the edge of the spa, letting the warm breeze sweep over me like a balm. I wanted to feel soothed, cared for, and sustained, but restlessly I busied myself with my camera. Restless. I ignored the real issues of my heart and I looked for beauty in the gifts God surrounds me with rather than in God Himself. I see that now, but at the time I did not. I've been frantically restless.

From the other side of the pool fence, five children played soccer. I was thankful for this, since we are all growing weary. Truth be told, no one feels like playing with the new arrivals anymore. We are forcing smiles, forcing kindness; we are forcing and reminding and trying again and again to just love. It's a love of choice at best right now. Loving with the brain and with action is hard when the heart is numb or indifferent. Yeah, like I said... truth be told...

This season of my life sort of feels like a deep winter freeze. The sun shines beautifully outside, but I curl deep below the blankets and wish for the kind of warmth the soul feels. Another day dawns, and I want to shut my eyes to it for a little while longer. I am numbed by the cold headwinds of my life.

I knew this season would come, but I imagined myself up early praying, strengthened and sustained. I imagined sensing the face of God shining, warmth for the soul. Jesus told his disciples to pray in the garden, but they shut down and slept because they couldn't handle the weightiness of it all. When prayer is what I need the most, I have become silent, stuck, benumbed.

There is so much to pray for. So many needs, so much sin, such heaviness. And loneliness, too. When I sense I need God the most, I have found myself frozen in place.

Ah, but He is there! He knows it all, He sees my weakness, and knows my heart. And He loves me still, calling to me, "Come."

I recommit. He is always there; I am the one that moves in and out of fellowship. I am the fickle child, brooding outside in the cold. But He is ever saying, "Draw near to me."

And I ask of Him again to hide me in the shadow of His wings and to make His face to shine upon me, and to save us in His lovingkindness. (Ps. 63:7; 31:16) He is faithful still.

~Katherine