I Don't Feel Like It

What do I do when I just don't feel like making sure I am leaving a trail of beauty wherever I go? 

What do I do when I would rather crawl back under the covers and hide my head from the events of the day, the week, the month, the upcoming year? 

What do I do when the events of the past several years threaten to undo me and the words of Jeremiah seem like my own? (Lamentations 1:16)

I am your classic melancholy personality. It is a conscious effort for me to see the glass half full or overflowing every. Single. Day. I have been told this kind of personality feeds the creative side of my self. The art I produce and the whimsy I dabble in on a regular basis come from the melancholy segment of my soul.

I talk a big game about living life ridiculously and skipping through public places -- and I do those things with great glee some days. Others -- not so much.

At times a dark, heavy cloud overtakes me and smooshes me under it while I claw, gnash my teeth, and gasp for air in order to resurface and reassess my surroundings with a new found admiration for those who endure the depths of despair on a daily basis.

I am comforted by the life of the author and perfecter of faith. He is called a Man of Sorrows. He withdrew  frequently to refresh Himself and to be alone with His Father. My own struggle is eased in knowing He chose to showcase the struggles of His followers all throughout Scripture. 

Lamentations is a whole book about the woes of Jerusalem from Jeremiah's perspective. He wept throughout the telling. Psalms is full of its own lengthy coverage of tears and sadness as David poured his heart out on the page again and again. These prominent figures in our life's manual from our precious Heavenly Father were not unacquainted with grief, with sorrow, and dare I say it? With depression. While each of them also wrote about great joy at knowing God, they also spent plenty of time discussing their deep despair and days where laying on a mat or shaking their fists felt far more freeing than singing another chorus of "Kum Ba Yah".

Beauty and sorrow mingle together. Grey clouds blot out the sun. I am no less a child of God or Princess of the King on days when I cannot see Him through the fog, summon up the strength to praise loudly or sing a happy tune. 

Some days are just like that. 

What I am grateful for on those days is His assurance that envelops me and gives me courage to keep close to Him in the midst of my darkest thoughts. I know His words, and most times I can cling to them in spite of the feelings that threaten to pitch me to a place of abandonment or thinking I am forsaken.

If you ever struggle to see the beauty in the midst of dark days, I encourage you to try to do what the verse on the photo says. Be still. I can't guarantee anything as a result, but I can with all confidence tell you the rest of that verse is as true as anything God has told us . . . He will assuredly fight for us. That brings me comfort. 

If this post has left you wanting . . . Go here.

On His Adventure through it all~

Pam

Seeing Beauty In the Broken

I ran across this tidbit on my computer and decided to to dust off the cobwebs. Hope it helps you to get to know me a little better.

I found a broken teapot.

In the past 10 years I have lived in three states, five cities, and received mail at seven different addresses. I have painstakingly packed and unpacked my belongings in a  mishmash assortment of moving boxes, Chick fil A waffle fry boxes, and those I've deemed most sturdy -- liquor boxes. Using bubble wrap, newspaper, plastic grocery bags, and kitchen linens, I have attempted to secure those "sentimental" items I didn't want to lose in the multiple-mile treks from place to place.

Moving regularly does have its positives. It is a sure-fire way to whittle down to the essentials of life. Usually somewhere in the process of packing up and trying to get my mind around the idea of heading off to a new place, I do finally find myself on that inevitable day. It's the day I call my "unsentimental" day. It's the one you need to have when you can be willing to throw out just about anything under the sun in the hopes of living life less encumbered. This is also the day you are much more concerned with saving money and avoiding more chiropractic care.

If you're like me, you give yourself a silent pep talk, all the while insisting, "We really didn't ever need that." followed by "We haven't used it in the six years we've lived here!"  Quickly wrapped up by my old time favorite, "We can surely find another one of these where we're going if we really need it".

Many things are tossed, sold, and given away. We've all been around when someone is moving and gathered the cast offs when space in the moving truck is getting scarce -- and space in our moving truck ALWAYS gets scarce. Little has a death grip on our hearts at this stage of the moving game.

Yet amidst all that mental chiding are those boxes. You know the ones. Dependent upon your allowable space for displaying precious treasures in your abode, you may or may not have seen these items in quite awhile.

The contents of those boxes is sacred. Clinging to each item inside is a story. Wrapped up in tissue or whatever you've determined worthy to attempt to cushion and protect are those delicate things you hold dear. You label them FRAGILE or BREAKABLE or CHINA, or all of the above and hope for the best as you stand aside and allow those with greater physical strength to load and unload those things that can so easily shatter upon impact.

What you don't realize until you arrive at your new address is how much of your story and your very self is wrapped up inside those boxes labeled FRAGILE or BREAKABLE.

I have always taught my children from the time they were very small "people are more important than things." I still believe it to be true.

However, in our hearts are those things. What I have discovered recently is the broken things in my life are not just broken things. Through tears  I tried valiantly to explain to my husband how these broken things continue to collide with the brokenness in my heart.

The teapot pictured above is similar and yet so different from my heart of late. The beauty is still visible to the undiscerning eye. The chip in its surface is barely visible unless you are really looking for it. I can and do still display it and enjoy its overall beauty. Unfortunately though, this teapot is no longer usable in its current state. It has lost its functionality as a result of its brokenness.

Yet may the state of this particular treasure never characterize me! May my own usefulness and functionality soar instead of plummet in the face of my brokenness. May the the beauty in the broken enable me to be refined and better used by my Savior.

The teapot may be broken but its story is still intact. I still know how I lovingly carried this particular treasure home in my tote from Prince Edward Island, protecting it with my pregnant self as I lay stranded in the airport in Chicago.

I know how many teas have been taken in this lupin-adorned china. I can remember my friends and the friends of my girls taking tea. I can see their faces around the tables in different locations. Sweet fellowship. Sweet memories. Unspoiled by the brokenness currently a part of this treasure.

My story is far from finished. I may not understand all the reasons for the hairline cracks and enormous caverns in my heart. I may not receive answers this side of heaven for why the circumstances and people who crossed my path shattered me and my sometimes very fragile heart.

What I can be assured of in the midst of my hurt is the presence of a healer.

I found a broken teapot. I am broken, but I am still alive for a reason and able to sing loudly of God's faithfulness in the midst of it all. See y'all next time!

On His Adventure~
Pam