I wish that the rest of this was going to be my take on all the songs that make me want to get down with my bad self, but it’s not. You see, I have an incredible life. It is full of love from my husband, my children, my family, and friends. We have the ability to be home together almost everyday of the week, and I have the blessing of home schooling my minis. Our needs are taken care of and we laugh. A lot.
But I got derailed. By that I mean I found myself withdrawn and had a difficult time finding contentment. I wanted to be anywhere but here, maybe start over somewhere new, just me. My husband wasn’t my most favorite person, I had been hurt by some people I trust, I had no patience for my kids, and I couldn’t seem to find peace. I was in one of the deepest funks I’ve ever been. Merriam-Webster defines funk as: a depressed state of mind. (more…)
Chubby hands clutching the ropes, “Higher! Higher,” she squeals. Only clouds and sun and sweet wind kiss her face. No cares, no worries. Nurturing hands push her upward.
More securely now, small hands on the ropes, “Higher! Higher,” she screams. Bows and ribbons and grass and tops of trees; Innocence on her lips, sweetness and life. Protective hands push her onward.
Careless and dauntless she climbs now. “Higher! Higher,” she demands. The world at her fingertips and knowledge a thing to be won; independence on her lips. Still guiding hands push her forward.
Smoothly and effortlessly she soars, “Higher! Higher,” she yells. Ambiguous horizon and ambivalent sighs, the climb ever necessary, the tasks ever present. There, gentle hands push her through.
Slowly and painfully she grasps the ropes, “High enough. High enough,” she says. Darkness and relief and calming storms fill tired eyes. A hush, a whisper, a breath. Gently now, tender Hands bring her home.
Long arms and strong legs swing effortlessly, “Perfect! Perfect,” she sings. Light and Love and Joy sing with her, life dancing in her eyes, laughter behind and all around.
Redeeming Hands hold her, and love her, and push her…
Swinging Swinging Swinging.
She sits in bible study again this week, and she smiles every time it seems appropriate. She says “Amen!” with the rest of the ladies when something particularly moving is said, and she answers questions when they are asked of her.
But still she doesn’t feel it. Still she doesn’t feel anything.
There is a vague recollection, a faint memory of feeling her faith once upon a time. It seems that she can almost grab onto this long ago heart condition, but then it slips away, more elusive with each passing moment.
What happened to that girl she once knew who was so on fire for Jesus? Where did she go? It doesn’t make it any better that everyone else around her seems to be having no problem living in the faith they proclaim. They cry and laugh and genuinely seem to feel what they believe.
Life just got in the way, and now she is left with doubt and pain at this Spiritual Sahara Desert which has become her life.
Have you ever felt this way? Have you ever entered into seasons of your life where you can only describe your faith as in your head but seldom in your heart?
Are you living in the Spiritual Sahara?