Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Abundance


They are snuggled on the couch, all in pajamas still, watching their cartoons on this gray morning. The kitchen smells of fresh juice and coffee. Apple, orange, carrot and cucumber for the morning; carrot, sweet potato, beet, and apple for lunch. I’m out of half and half for my coffee so the baby’s whole milk will have to do. My fingers peck at the laptop, even though the kitchen counters and floor are fighting for my attention. So much to do today – schedules, trainings, birthday parties to plan and preparations for the first day of school. But my fingers keep typing, one key at a time, transforming the swirling in my head onto words on a screen.

We received a text message, (was it just a day ago?), “Brenna, I need you.” He left them, he scared them. This afternoon I bake a cake and prepare a meal, hoping to provide a few hours of comfort to the heart sick. We will be your family.

So, so much to do. But there always is, isn’t there? Not just for me, but for you too. For all of us. Always feeling busy, never enough. 

This weekend I took three whole hours for myself. It’s the longest I’ve been without my kids all summer. Two quick errands and then time at the gym. For the first time in recent memory it was welcomed. I knew the reward at the end of the pain. The steam room. Ten minutes (I greedily stole twenty) of uninterrupted time.

Completely alone.

I sat on the hot stones, wrapped in white towels, watching the water drip off of the ceiling. Pink splotches on my skin where it lands. Breathe in. Breathe out. I feel the impurities of my body begin to sweat out of my skin. Breathing begins to slow. I feel quiet.

The silence leads me to prayer. I sweat out the impurities of my soul. The hardness in my heart begins to melt. I watch my sweat roll off my legs and hit the stone below.  I close my eyes and just breathe in the hot, moist air. If I stay here long enough, I might be able to hear Him.

Here, in this room, I can push out the thinking, the knowing that it’s not enough. I don’t have enough time. Not enough energy. Not enough fun. My mothering. My partnering. My teaching. My writing.

My writing.

I've been calling out and no one hears.  I want it to be good (enough?).

I hate this word enough. I don’t want enough.

I want abundance.

I want plenty.

I want overflow.

“For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” (Matthew 12:34b)

But for now, it does have to be enough. For I have girls to cuddle, parties to plan, schedules to finalize, cakes to bake, floors to mop, counters to clean, and air to breathe.

I look up from my computer and realize the sun has burned off the morning haze. The blue of the sky and the white of the clouds whisper to me. Abundance.



17 comments:

  1. Oh my, I can relate. That steam room sounds heavenly!

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  2. Struggling with this, too. Only without the babies and birthday parties (for now!) :).

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    1. Thought of you, friend, when I wrote this. Praying for us both!

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  3. I know these feelings. I recently began reading Brennan Manning's, The Furious Longing of God, and he talks about praying the simple prayer, "Abba, I belong to you." Lately, that's about all I've been able to muster, but it seems to be enough. May God's rest and peace and comfort be yours today :)

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    1. I'm working through Ragamuffin Gospel....I'll add this to the list as well!

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  4. This is great. I know that longing only too well, and how when you finally get the moments alone you almost forget how to enjoy them!!

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  5. yes, this longing... these stolen moments. you wrote a piece of me here too, inside your words.

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  6. Your words are laced with a hot longing, friend. And a cry to see the abundance for which faith calls.

    Love the steam and the imagery there. Beautiful and refreshing.

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  7. I love your expectancy for more, more of His goodness, knowing He doesn't hold back His love to His children. I love how you see what is in front of you, appreciating it all, and trusting that He is in it all, from the countertops that need attention to the cry of His girl's heart to write, with Him. It is all, amazing, with Him.

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    1. Thank you. Keeping Him in the middle of it all is the only thing that gives it meaning. Hard to remember sometimes, but necessary.

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  8. LOVELY! Glad you stole these moments and shared them with me!

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    1. Usually they are few and far between, but I'm learning they are necessary for my soul.

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  9. oh friend. i hear the longing of your heart, and i understand. i get it. and i'm so proud of you (can i say that?) for taking this time for yourself. i go for a run each day, by myself, after trent gets home. and it allows me to hear God. bless you.

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    1. Thank you, Emily! I felt so bad but there are things we do, things we HAVE to do, to make us, US.

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