Kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you’ll wait for me. Hold me like you’ll never let me go . . .
It was one of those moments. It happens periodically when I’m in the early morning sleep state, between quiet and reality. A song fragment awakens me and flows through my heart and thoughts. These are rare, breathless moments. Moments when He sings over me. I’ve learned to listen.
Yes, Lord?
Remember your speech?
The one I didn’t get to give. The one I’d already posted to my blog before I know whether or not I’d get to give it.
The one where I said to survive being a writer I had to hold onto God for all I was worth.
I’d fallen asleep a few hours before with eyes squeezed hard in the darkened hotel room, eyelashes hot with wet that cooled to icky cold on my cheeks. I was okay. After all, it’s normal to be bummed in times like this. But I hadn’t only hidden sadness from the world. Anger smoldered, too, tinging the purity of disappointment.
Anger for the long path of a writer. Grief that only that week He’d again asked me to do something different than I wanted as a writer. To put the projects of my heart on hold again–after they’d been on hold for that last 5 years. Just when I thought maybe He’d let me move forward He again said, “no.”
The speech, remember? Live what you wrote. Hold onto Me for all you’re worth.
Yes, Lord.
I felt it, then–His kindness, His reassurance, His tenderness. Without words He spoke, “Smile for me, beloved. Don’t be angry I didn’t give you the win this time. Wait for Me. For My plan. Love me, dear one. Live in my joy. Don’t let the disappointment steal it away.”
Trust Me.
The anger dissipated.
Smile for Me?
The pain lessened.
Kiss me?
“I love you, Lord. Even when I don’t get my way.”
I thought back to all He’d taught me this summer. The preparation for the new twists of His plan.
And I knew this moment was about another surrender to another “wait.”
In His goodness He didn’t ask me to obey without also sharing His presence, His heart. Like the times Jerry has had to disappointment me for a greater good, He grieved, too. Was sad He couldn’t give what I wanted right then. Wished He could simply make me happy.
Desired, maybe even needed, my smile. My kisses.
Unbroken relationship.
I’ll write about His new plan soon. It’s a curve ball I never desired, but got excited about when He asked it of me. And then freaked out about and got mad about later, only to surrender once again.
photo from wikipedia
It’s a curve ball that will eventually allow a home run hit or two, but that in the short term means turning (yet another time) from my long-term dreams and resting in short-term preparation.
Learning to swing at this curve ball means another season of stretching, learning, allowing Him undo thinking patterns that hold me back. Another round of stepping out of my comfort zone and swinging on a new field.
I’ll let you know all about that soon, my friends. Until then, I covet your prayers for me in this new place where I stretch.
You guessed it. The rain then began in earnest. By the time we reached the library my clothes stuck to my skin, and water droplets ran down my nose and hung a moment before dripping off.
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