New pictures - March 2007

The Labor of Love

I awoke yesterday with a topic in mind for my blog, a “chautauqua” – “The Energy of Chemistry”. Before the alarm even went off, my eyes opened wide with the recollection of a connection so thoroughly enjoyed. A familiar giddiness had taken hold – that mojo motivator which works with or without sleep – and the old hope was swelling. It was the old hope, though – that satisfaction instead of disappointment might come from a relationship. As readers here already know, the old hope isn’t fitting these days as well as it used to. This heart of flesh flexes towards depth more readily than in any other direction. No longer is the terrain of my heart made up of rocky soil, eagerly awaiting the seed which takes shallow root – short lived & easily scorched into oblivion by the cares of this world (Mark 4:5-6). I come these days toward a quicker recognition of the allergy of addiction, and a readier hope – a readier courage even – toward a labor of love.

Certainly, there is One to thank for this – for every good & perfect gift is from above (James 1:17). But once again, God’s gift came to me with skin on. This time, it was fair skin around light eyes & dark hair, encompassing a tall, funny, gentle, smart, godly (and – ok – adorable?) man. But I get ahead of myself.

What was it about Saturday? A day to myself to get things done. The first day in so long that I had time to think, and time – well – to NOT think. Before I knew it, I was chatting with someone, and for the first time ever, I wasn’t creeped out. I wanted to meet this gentleman. A simple, safe meeting was arranged, and it lasted well into the wee small hours. Someone to talk with, someone to embrace even the most mundane parts of life with – and find them anything but mundane – someone I didn’t want to STOP talking with – and all the while, just talking! I was so grateful that there was more to come on Sunday, and so confused by my inability to hold back even things which would be very sensible to hold back.

Enter Monday – the aforementioned waking, and a silly smile on a sillier face. You see, for all that the heart deepens & matures, it seems the rest of me has trouble catching up. I’m humming Dean Martin in the shower – something about the moon & a big pizza pie… ridiculous. Still, for all my propensity towards the flightiness of a schoolgirl, I was able to enjoy just what I’d received – a wonderful weekend with an enjoyable person. Circumstances being what they are, it may well never amount to any more than that.

The gift of this weekend went beyond such company, though. This last year has been so useful in teaching me so much about myself, about my relationship to God, and about the things I need to work through in order to be the woman He wants me to be – a mother, sister, daughter, friend, employee, congregant, niece, cousin, grand daughter, ex wife, neighbor – the person I was created to be, my true “child of God self”, as the Message translation puts it in John 1:12. I saw this weekend, through the generosity & insightfulness of a perfect stranger, how my walls need to remain gated. It has become easy for me, while claiming to embrace independence, to insist on independence. It got me thinking about the newly fertile ground which landscapes this new heart, about the seed it will one day receive, and the crop it would yield.

Oh, how I guarded the old heart of stone. Terror seized it nearly every minute. There was no terror so great as the thought of God Himself coming to remove the weeds with such deep roots, the ripping of thorns which would choke Him out. So diligently I guarded that heart from such a work as would save my life, if only I could bear to lose it (John 12:25). I consider now – that wasn’t the heart that needed guarding. The issues of life did not spring from that heart (Proverbs 4:23). Now, as supple new flesh is exposed, now is the time for great care, and not with my heart alone, but with the heart of any other who would so expose themselves to the Great Physician for such transformation.

My thoughts turn to Hebrews, and not only because I was there on Saturday night, but because it speaks of the superiority of my Jesus. In a life where insufficiency was such a hallmark of my relationships, in a year when Christ’s superiority came to be known over such unworthy objects, He still reigns superior over even His wonderful creations. The hope which would try now to swell in me is matched and overpowered by the knowledge that God, who did not spare His own Son, will graciously give me all things (Romans 8:32) – and with a timing that will blow my mind (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8).

And so tonight, as I record these wonders, I find an old compulsion evaporating. I find Jenn free to be Jenn as she makes her request, as she allows her new hope to find a voice. I am not asking for that which I would normally ask for. I am not asking of the one I would usually ask. This time, recognizing His will to be the only place I truly long to be – the only place which will not disappoint (Romans 5:5) – I ask the only one I ever should have asked for such a thing. I ask my Father (and his):

Can I know him? Just know him.

And the Father might reply, “It’s ‘May I know him?’, child”

To which I would say, “I asked first…”