An afternoon of hookie

This afternoon I played hookie from work. It’s just not something I do, not because I can’t but because I take my job and the responsibilities of my job seriously. I have amazing staff who care for me and often suggest I take some time off but I don’t.  Today was different.

There have only been 2 nights since the calendar flipped from 2011 to 2012 that I have slept for more than 2 hours at a time. Both nights were the direct result of needing to sleep off whatever concoction of pharmaceuticals I had consumed. That was neither smart nor safe but it was what it was. I have always had patterns of sleeplessness and for about 2 years I actually slept like most people where I went to bed and stayed asleep for 7 solid hours. All nighters were something I used to do with ease but that was 30 years ago and speed was my best friend. I’m now 30 years older and running on my own steam so the loss of sleep has a cumulative effect.

The past 2 weeks have been unsettling. Places in my life that were solid, stable and unchanging have either been on a tilt or have completely flipped. I have questioned the path of my walk with God, questioned the authenticity of the people in my life, questioned my purpose in life and even questioned my value and worth. All the while losing sleep. The owner of the business I work for has been selling off stores and I have not had the access to him that I once had. My brother has gone missing, thought to be found, but is still missing 1000s of miles away. Every night I lost more sleep. Over these last few weeks I have run myself deep into the ground, knowing I was doing  just that but not caring in the least.

I have survived on the love of a friend, love both given and received. I have nourished myself on the deepening of this friendship, it has helped me tread enough water to stay above the water line.

This morning I sent out texts to my staff to see who would come in early. 3 texts out, 3 replies in, all saying yes. I know the value of my staff and subscribe to the concept that if you put yourself out for them they will return each and every favor. I pulled them in so I could meet with my friend, head to the beach and just be, for a spell. An afternoon of hookie has refilled me and I know we both will, carry on.

I talked the talk but sat out for the walk

This past week has been a week of constant upheaval. Three key areas in my life are in a holding pattern while I wait for decisions to be made by others or news of one. While I have become a master at waiting this too is starting to wear me thin.

It’s like going to the airport. You rush to get there in time to check your luggage then you wait. Join the throng with their boarding passes only to wait. Like sheep in a chute you board the plane, sit and wait for your turn to take off. That has been what this past week was like. Get to point A and wait. Move to point B and wait some more. I had no idea that it would take so much out of me and I found myself being completely drained.

When so much is uncertain I really need to “let go, let God” but as easy as the words are to say and type the action is quite complex. In order to” let go” I need to have complete peace that it is out of my hands. Nothing I do will affect the circumstances or alter the outcome, nothing. “Let God”. Despite hearing from him all this week it’s been directional, instructive, counselled, one sided not relational. In the midst of giving it over to God I neglected to give what he deeply desired, me, my attention, my heart.

I was trying to find something I had read for my friend. I had almost every book pulled from the shelves and scattered around me on the floor. I used every means of technology in the house to track down what I was looking for. As I read and searched my frustration rose then slowly grew into a full blown rage. I was a raving lunatic searching for a nugget from God and ignoring him in the process. Hour after hour I dug through print and the whole time God sat patiently waiting for me. Waiting for me to simply ask him for the words I was looking for.

After some time I had found something close to what I was looking for and I sent it off in an email. As I typed the email I could feel the rage in me boiling. I hit the send button and the bubbles started to break the surface. After a few minutes they all burst and I was on the verge of being out of control. At first I shrugged it off as being the lack of sleep catching up with me, the high level of stress I was under, the uncertainty of everything. Then her link showed up.

I sat and read it and right there in the middle of the page was exactly what I was looking for. In plain English, in her words my truth came smashing down around me. I was so enraged because I had sinned and was oblivious that I had even done so. I was sinning when I asked God for his help then held on with clenched fists the very thing I had asked him to help me with. In my quest to be helpful I had failed to be who I said I was, I was being who I thought I should be. No where in there was I being who God created me to be.

 

Moving day

Stepping into the dimly lit building I stand in awe

there are so many boxes

so many lives packed away, so much pain, so much despair

Slowly walking through the aisles

     lingering here and there

                                           touching them as I walk, listening

                               always listening

Overwhelmed I stop and cry out

     ”Father, which one”

          which one of the hundreds I see

“You will know it when you see it”

 and I walk on, listening

                                               big boxes that are cold to the touch

                                                       small boxes that smell sweet

Far above me on the highest shelf it sits

     tilting my head back I sigh at the distance

          unsure if I can even reach it I begin to climb

                       Every shelf takes me farther from the ground

                                                climbing and listening confident in His directions

                                                               until I reach the top so far from where I started

                                                                 even up here the boxes are piled high

Walking through them moving them aside

I find the box I’m looking for

the bottom is brown from the blood now dried

Carefully I lift it up, mindful of its fragility

sliding both hands under it to keep the bottom from dropping out

I begin my climb back down cradling it gently

Now back on the ground I lift one flap and peer inside

a small pale light emanates from deep within

reaching in to bring the light forward my hands hit the pool of blood

that collected from the last surgeon who suddenly walked away

I cry out once again “Father I can’t reach the bottom”

“not today child but you will”  He quietly whispers to me

 

Listening I begin to unpack the box

      not my life but hers eerily similar

              Father guide me cover us both

                                      in protection as we continue anew

   the healing

                                            Father take us to the end