Who am I, and who are these my people,
that we should presume to be giving something back to you?
Everything comes from you; all we’re doing is giving back
what we’ve been given from your generous hand.
As far as you’re concerned, we’re homeless, shiftless wanderers
like our ancestors,
our lives mere shadows, hardly anything to us…
I know, dear God, that you care nothing for the surface-
you want us, our true selves.
1 Chronicles 29: 14-17, The Message
I’m struggling. The winter cold and rain has blown in strong, and when I look out my window I see dim light and shades of gray. When I look inward, I feel gray too. These are the times when I wonder, Is it just me? Or do we all have a bare soul winter?
I’ve been dwelling a little on where I was last month, the month before. I had a good little thing going, felt totally centered, dropped down deep into the core of my life. I felt holy, calling on holy, walking on holy.
And it still is, holy. The only thing that’s changed is me. I’m going back to Grace for the Good Girl, to Emily’s life-changing questions: “What is the truth? What will you believe? What will you do? Will you give up the right to feel as if God's truth is true?”
I choose to believe what was calling is calling still. I choose to act as if the truth is true.
This is the test of all things-to continue when your head is quiet, heart is still. To get up anyway and sit in the chair anyway, pulling heart through the dust behind you. To do the work when it feels like work.