Thursday, June 24, 2010

Restless

I saw a movie this week, two of a series, in fact.  They are very popular and I have to say I really enjoyed them, for all that I dragged my feet watching them.  But somehow the story has gotten deep, deep inside of me, awakening a restlessness, a longing. 

I know this yearning, and know very well my powerlessness to meet it.  Most of the time I shush. Reminding myself that my Father knows, He has promised, He sees, He knows I am formed of dust with His spark.  This restlessness comes from the clash of the divinity of that spark with the impatience of my dust. 

Memory begins to lie, to embellish the past with a rosiness that is not quite accurate and a distance that may be. Fear whispers in my ear, painting pictures of a future and a present that is darker, drier and lonelier than is true. 

Tears fall in secret. 

My heart must again be surrendered.

This week I have run, escaped into beautiful and beloved stories: worlds tucked away between paper covers.  Trying to enjoy their stories which somehow somehow soothe although not going quite as deep as the longing the first has reawakened.

A knock comes again to a door from my past.  A door my Father has told me to firmly keep shut.  I will not assuage the restlessness that way.  I obey, grateful for His voice which relieves me of the burden of any decision beside the one I have already made to follow.  "Well done." He whispers.

Did Sleeping Beauty toss and turn in her sleep? 

How thorough was her enchantment? 


Did she get restless, waiting?

But I am not under enchantment.  I am bound to something far more active and true.  I am waiting because I was asked to, by the One I trust most.  And yet there are times where waiting seems almost a punishment, a censure of some sort.

And I take a deep breath and ask Him, "Is it me? Am I the reason for the wait? Am I simply a slow learner?" 

He chuckles, and draws me into a tight embrace.  I can almost smell the sushine on His clothes.

Almost. 

"No, it is not you.  My timing is perfect"

Reassured I go back to my wait.

Restless, true. 

Escaping to tamper down the agitation, the want?      Yes. 

But in the wait, in the struggle to submit my heart, patience grows.
Blog Med Sig 4

1 comment:

sortingshelves said...

Thank you so much for referring me to this post. What I'm finding most amazing is how deeply I connect with your statement, "I can almost smell the sunshine on His clothes." I have had those moments, too. Very powerful.

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