Last evening, I sat on the front porch with my girls snapping beans. The gentle plunk of the beans hitting the bowls punctuating my thoughts in a soothing rhythmic fashion. Snapping beans is great for introspection. nike phone case iphone 7
I became lost in watching my oldest as she picked up each bean, broke the ends, divided it in half, and then tossed it in the bowl. At first, she was intent on the task and fully focused on her work. But as with any menial job, our imagination begins to wander wherever our brains go when there is a disconnect from what we are doing with what we are thinking and feeling.
The ends of the beans thrown in the scrap bowl changed from being the very tips to being a good chunk of the bean. iphone 7 case sleek Her eyes were catching in the last of the afternoon light and flickering like the rapid moving film of an old projector. From where I sat behind her, I was only a few feet away but the distance between us could be miles.
So like faith and life, this disconnect. Often, I find myself seeking outlets in my daily life to allow for “zone time” to escape for a while by climbing inside my head. blue iphone 6 silicon case Sure, I pray and it is heartfelt prayer but when was the last time that I allowed myself to drop everything to simply connect to God?
I take that back… light blue iphone 8 case it’s sort of like I’ve become one of those boom boxes from the nineties that could either be plugged in or unplugged and run on batteries. When I am in church, it’s as though I am plugged in. The current is constant and life-sustaining. Just as soon as I walk out of the sanctuary to load the children up for a rushed lunch before hauling them to a parent visit — I’m running on batteries. I can feel the energy and vitality slowly draining away, leaking through my pores.
During some of the worst years of my life — long before miscarriages and deployments — I lived with my horribly abusive mother. We fought her mental illness sometimes together but more often it was me carrying her through the battle. oasis iphone 7 case In the midst of the chaos, I would climb up on my horse and instantly find myself enveloped in God’s love. Those lovely ears (belonging to my horse) framed my world as I lay across my horse’s neck weeping in free-form prayer with his mane laced through my fingers and the wind pulling at my tears — tugging them over my skin in every direction. The feeling lasted for weeks…. sometimes months.
My oldest looked over at me and smiled.
“I love you,” she said softly as a gentle breeze lifted the wisps of hair from her face. And then, I felt it. This storm surge of emotion sent me racing over the hills on my horse chasing cloudshadows and hope pried at my guarded heart letting God come pouring in. Renewal was instant.
I wrapped my arms around her and she wriggled closer. My mind replayed the past few months in which I called out to God so many times for guidance, begged, bargained, and pleaded for a miracle. No wonder I’d felt the current fading — it was fading. Somehow, I’d lost faith that God would heal the children or that we would ever heal from this experience. Fear prevented me from tapping into the love that had always been there waiting behind the routine struggles of daily life…