Take me to the place where I am known.
I want to go where I am no mystery.
I want to be free of all that is false,
And be clothed instead with simplicity.
Take me to the place where I am known,
Where the patches fall and the makeup runs.
I want to be where I cannot impress.
I want to feel whole when completely undone.
Take me to the place where I am known
Where there is no fear, no urge to hide.
It is the place I most look like Him,
Where both our arms are open wide.
Take me to the place where I am known
And there may I be ever found.
The only place where I belong
Is the place where only He's renowned.
Take me to the place where I am known.
One thing I ask; just this I seek.
Take me to the place where I am known,
And a knower of Him is all I must be.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Time to Be...
Sitting by the window and soaking up the Sunday sun, it's a beautiful moment to be.
Perhaps I am the only one who is still whisked away into foreign lands by the simple turning of a page. Perhaps I am the only one who can find fulfillment in something so simple as a pen and a few blank sheets of paper. Perhaps I am the only one who feels quite entirely beautiful in a pair of pajamas, with bare feet, curled up on the floor.
But I doubt it.
I think that we have all been there and I think we all know the secret: that sweet simplicity tends to bring out the best version of ourselves.
When all the hustle stops and there's a break from all the running; when there's a moment of quiet, a moment to rest and be still; I find myself so much closer to the person I want to be.
Now, to be clear, I'm not talking about the person I want to be in the sense of the woman I see through ambition's eyes. I'm referring to the person I want to be in the sense that who I am when I am still is the person I enjoy being.
When I am allowed to be still and my heart finds some calm, I find myself more like... well, myself. When there is no competition to face and no expectations to meet, I can suddenly find myself laying on the carpet in my room, legs flat against the wall staring up at the ceiling until my feet are hopelessly asleep. Or I can find myself concocting some odd creation in the kitchen with the very glamorous foundation of an Eggo waffle. Or sneaking out in the yard in the middle of the night to sit on the concrete and stare up at the sky.
And somehow, in these silly, simple, sweet little moments that will never be spoken of as any defining greatness in my existence, I find my soul set free. When there is time just to be, and I'm able to shake off some of the monotony that rests like a fine dust on this thing they call adulthood, the oddest thing happens...
Today I celebrate how, in some of the smallest and most unimpressive moments I know, I find myself at the most satisfied with my existence.
So cheers to Sunday afternoon and midnight breakfasts and finding shapes in the stucco on the ceiling. Cheers to pajamas and loose hair and bare feet.
Here's to a moment to stop all the doing and instead to that most beautiful blessing: time to be.
LeChaim.
Perhaps I am the only one who is still whisked away into foreign lands by the simple turning of a page. Perhaps I am the only one who can find fulfillment in something so simple as a pen and a few blank sheets of paper. Perhaps I am the only one who feels quite entirely beautiful in a pair of pajamas, with bare feet, curled up on the floor.
But I doubt it.
I think that we have all been there and I think we all know the secret: that sweet simplicity tends to bring out the best version of ourselves.
When all the hustle stops and there's a break from all the running; when there's a moment of quiet, a moment to rest and be still; I find myself so much closer to the person I want to be.
Now, to be clear, I'm not talking about the person I want to be in the sense of the woman I see through ambition's eyes. I'm referring to the person I want to be in the sense that who I am when I am still is the person I enjoy being.
When I am allowed to be still and my heart finds some calm, I find myself more like... well, myself. When there is no competition to face and no expectations to meet, I can suddenly find myself laying on the carpet in my room, legs flat against the wall staring up at the ceiling until my feet are hopelessly asleep. Or I can find myself concocting some odd creation in the kitchen with the very glamorous foundation of an Eggo waffle. Or sneaking out in the yard in the middle of the night to sit on the concrete and stare up at the sky.
And somehow, in these silly, simple, sweet little moments that will never be spoken of as any defining greatness in my existence, I find my soul set free. When there is time just to be, and I'm able to shake off some of the monotony that rests like a fine dust on this thing they call adulthood, the oddest thing happens...
Today I celebrate how, in some of the smallest and most unimpressive moments I know, I find myself at the most satisfied with my existence.
So cheers to Sunday afternoon and midnight breakfasts and finding shapes in the stucco on the ceiling. Cheers to pajamas and loose hair and bare feet.
Here's to a moment to stop all the doing and instead to that most beautiful blessing: time to be.
LeChaim.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Why worry?
Driving home today was a moment of perfection.
Little one was in the passenger seat, hiding windswept under her coat and looking quite a lot like Cousin It.
We both had our big sunglasses on that make us look like glamorous starlets incognito out among the people (or like overgrown grasshoppers, depending on which opinion you consult).
The windows were down and brown curls were blowing everywhere.
Golden sunlight and fresh driving-over-the-water wind was streaming in.
The sky and the water were all aglow with the deep honey rays of the just dying day.
It was one of those moments that forms the seams in the fabric of my heart. Those recurring sweet dreams that knit together all the other pieces like a golden thread that frames even the unbearable in beauty.
And as we drove, Carrie Underwood sang a song that has caught my wondering lately. "Temporary Home." Used to describe alternately a foster home, a halfway house and finally all of life as we know it. "Windows and rooms, that I'm passing through."
It's interesting. It's sweet and soothing. There's peace in remembering that this is not all there is. That there is some other destination; a reality behind the longing that whispers in our souls.
And as we drove, we rode in silence and I smiled gently as I turned the wheel, changing lanes to continue our perfect journey unhindered by slow movers.
And then we almost crashed.
...
"Almost" here is a very subjective phrase. As I slanted into the lane to my right, the car in the lane beyond seemed just a little too close. A second glance found him (a middle aged man with brown hair and a startled but not unkind face) in the middle of the lane into which I was slowly moving. An easy turn of the wheel in the other direction moved us safely away with hardly a jolt. We never came closer than four or five feet.
Still, it was an interruption to the serenity; to our smooth, sunlit passage home.
And yet, contrary to all other such "almosts," my heart didn't skip a beat. And, at that precise moment, as we glided back into our lane and Carrie continued to sing, I heard God whisper something so simple and more distinctly than I've heard Him in a long time...
"Why worry?"
I don't know that I can even contain in words what it did for my heart to hear those words in my Father's voice. It was as though the entire situation were hand painted by the Lord; just a scene for Him to speak so clearly exactly what I needed to know. I am overcome with gratitude.
One thing I know of my God: He is mighty to save. His eye is yet on the sparrow and I know He watches me. He guards me and is far greater than any trial or fear I've ever known. If the worst I can imagine were to come to be, the cross has already conquered it.
And though the world shattered around me... Though every thing of beauty and strength that has ever brought me comfort were to melt before my eyes... If everything really did fade to black...
Yet the Lord would be seated on the throne. And yet the end of days would find me on another sunlit passage home; full speed into the arms of He who has loved me ever.
"This is my temporary home, it's not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I'm passing through.
This is just a stop on the way to where I'm going;
And I'm not afraid because I know
This is my temporary home."
Love Himself is our eternal end. Why should we fear?
And if forever finds me with Him, why worry about the simple signposts that lead me there?
Sunglasses on. Radio playing sweet songs. Windows down and wind blowing. Let the sunlight pour in. Let the miles fly by. Let's melt into the highways and the golden rays that warm our souls.
Let's fly fearless.
After all, why worry?
Little one was in the passenger seat, hiding windswept under her coat and looking quite a lot like Cousin It.
We both had our big sunglasses on that make us look like glamorous starlets incognito out among the people (or like overgrown grasshoppers, depending on which opinion you consult).
The windows were down and brown curls were blowing everywhere.
Golden sunlight and fresh driving-over-the-water wind was streaming in.
The sky and the water were all aglow with the deep honey rays of the just dying day.
It was one of those moments that forms the seams in the fabric of my heart. Those recurring sweet dreams that knit together all the other pieces like a golden thread that frames even the unbearable in beauty.
And as we drove, Carrie Underwood sang a song that has caught my wondering lately. "Temporary Home." Used to describe alternately a foster home, a halfway house and finally all of life as we know it. "Windows and rooms, that I'm passing through."
It's interesting. It's sweet and soothing. There's peace in remembering that this is not all there is. That there is some other destination; a reality behind the longing that whispers in our souls.
And as we drove, we rode in silence and I smiled gently as I turned the wheel, changing lanes to continue our perfect journey unhindered by slow movers.
And then we almost crashed.
...
"Almost" here is a very subjective phrase. As I slanted into the lane to my right, the car in the lane beyond seemed just a little too close. A second glance found him (a middle aged man with brown hair and a startled but not unkind face) in the middle of the lane into which I was slowly moving. An easy turn of the wheel in the other direction moved us safely away with hardly a jolt. We never came closer than four or five feet.
Still, it was an interruption to the serenity; to our smooth, sunlit passage home.
And yet, contrary to all other such "almosts," my heart didn't skip a beat. And, at that precise moment, as we glided back into our lane and Carrie continued to sing, I heard God whisper something so simple and more distinctly than I've heard Him in a long time...
"Why worry?"
I don't know that I can even contain in words what it did for my heart to hear those words in my Father's voice. It was as though the entire situation were hand painted by the Lord; just a scene for Him to speak so clearly exactly what I needed to know. I am overcome with gratitude.
One thing I know of my God: He is mighty to save. His eye is yet on the sparrow and I know He watches me. He guards me and is far greater than any trial or fear I've ever known. If the worst I can imagine were to come to be, the cross has already conquered it.
And though the world shattered around me... Though every thing of beauty and strength that has ever brought me comfort were to melt before my eyes... If everything really did fade to black...
Yet the Lord would be seated on the throne. And yet the end of days would find me on another sunlit passage home; full speed into the arms of He who has loved me ever.
"This is my temporary home, it's not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I'm passing through.
This is just a stop on the way to where I'm going;
And I'm not afraid because I know
This is my temporary home."
Love Himself is our eternal end. Why should we fear?
And if forever finds me with Him, why worry about the simple signposts that lead me there?
Sunglasses on. Radio playing sweet songs. Windows down and wind blowing. Let the sunlight pour in. Let the miles fly by. Let's melt into the highways and the golden rays that warm our souls.
Let's fly fearless.
After all, why worry?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)