Written On the Heart

You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all men;

being manifested that you are a letter of Christ, cared for by us,

written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but 

on tablets of human hearts.

2 Corinthians 3:2-3

The day has arrived, gentle reader, for me to turn out the lights and lock the door to this space.  Hiding behind Maria did not unlock the creativity I thought it might.  It did provide me a safe place to publicly process some thoughts.  In the past months I have learned that in some ways, I long to be more insular and in fact it is something I will pursue.  Yet, in other ways I must leave my bubble to gladly embrace the world in the name of Jesus.  What an opportunity that is!  To walk on this path is messy and full of trouble for me and for my family, and yet there is no other path for us, no other calling that would give us rescue from the one we have already heard.  

Perhaps because I am slow (not in a feeble minded way, but more in the way of the tortoise), I find that I do not have the physical time available that is necessary to blog.  The reason I feel pulled in so many different directions is because I AM pulled in so many different directions.  Priorities priorities, and the blog has lost out.  And here is why this is not bad news:

The other day I was sifting through pictures of when the children were quite small.  Among the pictures I pulled out two journals that had entries on only a few pages.  I sifted through the memories and realized all of the half-recorded details along the way.  I read some of those old journal entries and thought what a treasure it would have been to me if I had found a journal written by my own mother.  I found the starts of handiwork never near finished.  I looked at the small faces staring back at me from the photo papers, and I suddently became very aware of how I have poured into too many jars-- never filling one-- only to spread myself far too thin.

I could see, clearly now, how I had left too much undone.

And how is this good news?  Well, at first the realization did not delight me at all.  No, I felt guilty and sick about it.  But I could quickly see how God had redeemed the time inspite of my lack.  So I was grateful.  And then I was grateful to be awake to the reality.  It is just one of my many 'second chances' in life.   I will still be in need, daily, of Him to redeem my every moment.  Apart from Him I can do nothing!  But I see that He has given me joy in the desire to pursue a more narrowed life-- one that celebrates things such as....

.... knowing that nothing much matters more than seeing lives saved and names written in the Lamb's book

.... if all I ever accomplish is to reflect God's amazing, unfathomable, devine love for man-kind-- person to person-- it is enough, it will have been a life well spent

.... there might be no more important words I could write than ones left for those to read that come behind me that simply give voice to what it was like for me to walk with my Lord on this earth

.... my presence.... my most real and alive and focused presence is the greatest gift I can give my children, my husband, my friends, my family and my neighbors

.... my audience may never extend beyond the walls of my small life (likely it will not) -- and so my time is not for a world of unknowns but for the very real work and wonder of:

making smoothies, knitting scarves and hats, walking the dog, tending the chickens, weeding the garden, kissing the foreheads, teaching the math, listening to the music, making the music, praying with friends, reading His word together, folding the clothes, dusting the shelves, sweeping the porch, delighting the neighbor, hanging the wreaths,chopping the veggies, tossing the salad, writing the letters, making the calls, smiling at the gas attendant, complimenting the cashier, asking about her family, remembering her after I leave her, sipping the wine, laughing over cards, singing 80's songs, traveling to new places, holding hands, having my mind blown by old ideas that are new to me, giving back rubs, braiding hair, hugging boys that grow too fast, reading His Word not just to read but to be renewed, making the bed, vaccuming the carpets,stirring the soup, embracing love, sipping tea, supporting my neighbor's new business, helping a sister fundraise for her mission, praying for a sister who is scared, welcoming new babies, cuddling, reading stories, writing poems, sewing curtians, listing to-dos, counting blessings, lighting candles, healing touches, mixing remedies, baking bread, reading mail, taking pictures, booking photos, weeding out, taking in, editing the papers, watching the practices, cheering during the races, praying for him and him and her and them, learning contentment, being real about who I am and Whose I am, making apologies and not making apologies, reading poems, singing songs, ministering, caring, writing on the hearts of those entrusted to me as letters to the world.... written by Jesus, cared for by me....

and that is the bottom line.  I am called to write, yes!  But in a very different medium from what I once thought. 

And so goes my story, our story.... not written with ink at all.... but on the tablets of our very human hearts.

Thanks for reading,
~Maria