Some mornings I wake up with my mind racing. Thoughts of what needs to be done, what should be done, what could be done… they all tighten my stomach into knots.
God, how do I do this? How I live a life that is wholly focused on you when so many things are vying for my attention. Important things. Things like bills and people and a barn full of cows…
This morning was just like so many before. I was whimpering in my sleep when my husband shook me away. “What’s the matter?” he asked, pulling me close.
“I just remembered that I forgot that bill. It’s due tomorrow. How can I possibly get it there by tomorrow? I can’t mail it. I’ll have to drive it. An hour and a half drive….” my voice trailed off into tears.
He reassured me that it would be okay. Of course it would. But it felt so big. Like this insurmountable challenge.
There are kids coming and cows to be milked and my *usually* organized farm-paperwork is piled in two big baskets and I’m not even sure what is what anymore.
Sometimes truth comes softly in the middle of stress. It eases in and settles on the edge and whispers into the expanse of tears and frustration and fear.
*I* am always so organized. With files and lists. *I* have this just so and that down to a science and the cows get milked on *my* schedule. It happens *my* way and I pay the bills in *my* order and…
Oh. God. I did again, didn’t I? Took everything you gave me and poured it back on myself. Made my whole life to revolve around me. And that is when stress comes and that is when I wake up crying and that is when nothing in life seems to fit right. It was never supposed to be about me.
So I beg, again, that He would turn my gaze back. I want to be a diligent worker, I want to do everything with excellence but most of all I want to be His.
And His words come, again, into my broken emptiness: Tasha? Won’t you come? Find delight?
And I see this picture, one that I snapped over two years ago-
My niece, putting flowers between her toes. The picture I didn’t get was when she looked up. Her eyes sparkled and her laughter rang out across the yard. She was delighted with the flowers. Tickled that they would grace her feet.
God, I want that. I want to be that way with you and all you’ve given me. Delighted. Tickled that you would pour grace on me. Here is my stress, again, today, Lord.
I lay down this idol of self again.
He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.