It is better...

"It is better to go to a house of mourning

than to go to a house of feasting,

 for death is the destiny of every man;

the living should take this to heart."

~Ecclesisates 7:2 (NIV)

I was in the house of mourning yesterday.  Among family and strangers I sat at the funeral service of a distant relative.  My grief was not so strong and near because of the loss of this precious person to me, rather I shared the grief of her closest family, the heaviness of their loss of one so dear.  I have felt that kind of grief.  The kind that makes the phrases, "broken hearts".  The kind that feels like your insides are being ripped  or you feel so hollow inside- a space that will not be filled again.  I sympathized with them.

The orator of the service read most appropriate scriptures of having faith in Jesus to resurrect our bodies unto everlasting life.  I ruminated the spiritual state of the souls in his audience.  I silently prayed that His words would be heard by them enough to make a saving difference. 

It is better to go to the house of mourning.  Do you think that strange?  Probability states that you have already visited one or will soon.  I sat in the house of mourning yesterday and I got it.  To leave her rooms without understanding would be almost impossible.  Especially when there lay spread before you a body.  A dead body.  No life what so ever in it.  A carcass really.  But because of the dignity of the human life in which it encased we do not use that word.  To those whose lives intertwined with hers that body represented life- a cherished life filled with stories, memories.  But the breath of life was taken from the body into the next chapter.  That was evident.

We grieve. Yet not without HOPE.  We have hope because we have FAITH that He who says we will be resurrected will indeed DO it for us.  Yet, the shortness of this life is also so blatantly evident.  A flower quickly fading.  I get it.  I am remembering today to ask the Lord to "teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom".  (Psalm 90:12)  

The "house" in the above scripture is synonymous with "family".  It means a dwelling of great containment literally or figuratively- to obtain children.  Yesterday, the day was spent reminiscing and sharing events and hearts with one another, meeting new generations.  All that matters is PEOPLE.  In the end when this chapter of our lives is complete all that will have mattered is relationships.  Our relationship with our Father.  Our relationships with those closest to our hearts.  Our relationships with fellow human beings.  

Death is the end of every man but it is also just the beginning.  I want to live now in such a way that my loved ones will want to be persons in the same chapters with me.



Walk with Him... I am linking up today.

A Drop of Water for the Dry Sponge

If you have read the been reading my recent posts, you are aware that I am going through SOMETHING.  I am not one to be verbal about my sorrows; moreover, I do not seek sympathy by spreading my turmoils among friends.  Instead I retreat.  I go inward.  I go to a place where I eventually meet GOD.  He heals me.  He restores me. He picks me up.  And sometimes He even gives me eagles wings so that am enabled to SOAR above my circumstance. (Isaiah 40: 28-31)

Right now though I am a place that is so unfamiliar, so desolate.  A wilderness that seems to have no end to the chaos.  As I meditate it has been about two years now of this arduos journey...through the wilderness, through the desert.  Maybe one or two stops on the high hills.  But it has been so long since I have soared among the mountain peaks that I do not think I could remember how to soar even if I had those eagle's wings placed upon me now.

Two years ago my oldest son was 15.  The second to oldest son was 14.  That is all I will say about them....

My last journal entry I was exhausted- drained- from the depths of my soul, from my head to my toes.  I felt led to post that diary entry of mine.  It has now been about a week and I wanted to continue sharing with you my journey.

I have been feeling like a dry sponge.  Do you know what I mean?  A natural sponge from the sea is meant to absorb water- to be full- and to be expressed- poured out.  Jesus said that "everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:13)   I can say that most of my Christian life I have been a sponge full of Life pouring out water, being filled again, and again.  Squeezing myself so that drops of liquid spiritual healing may wet the sponges that I come into contact with.  That is my purpose to be full so that I might be emptied.

But presently, I have felt like a DRY sponge.  Have you ever touched one?  They are hard, brittle, full of holes, and not in their natural state.

THAT is how I have been feeling of late.

There is nothing in me to give.

I am dry.

I am empty.

I have been hardened.

I am not in my usual, natural state.

If I parallel this to my soul-world, I could say that I feel completely undone.  Have you ever been there?  I think that this might be my first time experiencing this in this way.  It is like I feel flat. -almost hollow .  This is the state people crave release by the sweet kiss of death.  I can understand that now.

But for HIS GRACE.

He gently, ever so gently, like the soft rustling of the wind in the grass whispers, "This is where I want you to be- empty."

But Father, "I am parched.  Dry. Cracked.  Relieve me of the fiery serpents and scorpions.  Bring me out of this wilderness and thirsty ground where there is no water."

"Your sorrow is from an other's sin; this place, I leave you here.  But I AM with you."

"It does not feel like it Lord!"

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

A drop of water.  Liquid healing.  Sustenance.  I have been feeling the drops.  Only one a day maybe.  Drops of grace.  A word of encouragement.  A scripture of promise.   A heart that understands.  Just a few drops.  Small relief for a thirsty soul.  But though one small drop of the water molecule does not quench my thirst or take the dry cracks from my soiled heart, it does promise Hope, Comfort, and Joy.

Hope- that with Him all things are possible.

Comfort- that He has not left me to my own demise.

Joy- that He is with me and loves me with so great a Love. 

Jesus was wounded for my transgressions.  He sorrowed over my sin.  Is this what I am to learn? to share in some minscule way an understanding of what He endured for me? And that to be FULL I must be EMPTY?  I feel really empty.  I do not think that I consciously could have ever taken my psyche to this state on my own.  It has been the desert, the scorpions that have taken me to a place of un-doneness.  I am undone.

The dry sponge drinks in the drop...day after day now there has been a "plunk" of another drop.  I trust that He will saturate me again.  That I will be a watered garden again.  I trust that the Lord shall, "guide me continually and satisfy me in this drought and make strong my bones.  I will be a spring of water whose waters fail not." (Isaiah 58:11)

I even trust that He will rain a deluge over my soul.

But for now, I trust and quaff each drop waiting for the next.

Journal Thoughts

I am kind of in a dark funk right now...I HAD wanted to begin a series about "Ladies Of Virtue".  What is a Lady?  Who are (we)?  What is virtue and how does it effect our lives?  How do we become virtuous?

All of these scrumptious nuggets waiting to be rolled into one delectable pastry that would last weeks.

However- LIFE happens.

"The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." -Proverbs 16:9

I had recently said that I am taking a writing hiatus.  I still am of sorts.  I presently am not writing where I really need to study scripture to deliver to you an inspiring article of Truth.  Just now though, I had to look up "steps" in the concordance....It means "pace"- which unequivocally, exactly fits what I am trying to say!  I have so many ideas to share with you, subjects to study.  The "LOV Journal" was meant to inspire women to LOVE being women, being godly women, and to see the Beauty that surrounds us.  That is my gift of exhortation in a nut shell.  Look for the pretty, look or the positive, look for the silver lining in the cloud.  Those phrases are what I diligently communicate to myself and try to share with others.  I do not like ugly things; I do not like to share ugly thoughts, feelings, the stuff that makes me feel more like beast than human.

But presently, the Lord has slowed my pace to almost a standstill. My strength is gone. The brightly burning embers are dim.

I understand that as I am comforted through hard times I am enabled to comfort others.  But most of the content of my HARD stuff deals with those closest to me.  Out of respect for them I cannot, do not write about the struggles we endure.  However, the other night I was writing in my journal- you remember, the old faithful friend with soft pages and ink swirls that remains faithful with your secrets?  Your BFF that is always as close as a reach-to-the-draw away?  I was writing when the thought occurred to me that I should post this particular entry.

So what you see below- is ME... raw, unedited (well, with name removals and se- adjustments for privacy)- written by the woman who yearns to be a Lady of Virtue.

"writing- feel compelled to- _ just blew up at me.  Hard to believe that it took h-- this long; I was waiting for it.  -e's all upset- how can -e go to work away to make a living when I am falling apart?  Really, __ is half of it.  I would have screamed at __ right now and shut the door. __e is crying because I am making __ sleep in __ own room.  If I do not, I think that I will go clinically nuts.  Such is the state my __ can get me in.  Still I can hear __ annoying, pitiful attempts of whining/crying to get my attention.  It is annoying me because __ is trying to sleep on the other side of the wall.  I'm putting ear plugs in soon.  Why do I let my ____ stress me out this much?  I haven't even mentioned  what happened with ______.  My heart feels like it exploded and all that is left are shards of glass lying on the floor.

I feel that if I let myself I could
a) scream and scream loudly till my throat is hoarse

b) physically b--- one specific ____

c)get in a car and drive to (who cares?) and not even look back

All but for God's grace.

....but I feel that it (His grace) is a tiny trickle, one small drop to quench the thirsty parched throat of one who has just traversed the Sahara.  Or I feel like I am hanging over a precipice with only a thread to hold on to. -not a sailor's well-trained knot of thick cord- just one thin thread- the kind that you would darn a hankie with.

Why does it feel like that when His grace is sufficient?"

enough.

abundant.

Perhaps tomorrow I will post some more.