earlybird dinners and anticipations and frustrations
I took this picture at 4:20 pm today.
Yes, this is us eating dinner. Yes, this is a terribly shot, terribly enhanced picture edited on my Samsung Galaxy 4 mini. But I made homemade cream of mushroom soup that is much healthier; I made homemade balsamic vinaigrette for our salads and I don't know what has become of me, but I am growing rather fond of it.
We got our first love seat today and now have furniture in the living room that isn't a futon! We spent time in all three of our home towns, enjoying our time too much to have pictures to show, with both family and friends, eating pancakes and pizza, frolfing, celebrating birthdays, going to church and d r i v i n g [always] but those sweet times are worth it. Our together times are my favorite.
But work weeks are different: fighting for time together if that means dinner at 4:15 while he comes home on his hour break, showering earlier than normal to have time together when the other gets home from work, snuggling on the couch with coffee to keep me awake rather than napping during our 2-hour gap between shifts. The coffee is wearing off and I'm ready for bed but will stay awake for that handsome boy to walk through the door no later than 10:15 tonight because I believe the most precious things are worth fighting for.
Today was calmly lovely and it isn't just because I'm wearing flannel and jeans and warm socks (though that does cover 60% of it). After a 5 am shift and kissing my husband good-bye for his 10 hour shift, I had enough mental capacity to watch Hercules, go on a run, cook him an earlybird dinner, and delve into Isaiah (which is hard and scary). And my heart skips knowing that soon, in 24 days actually, we will put away our Fareway ties and 5 am shifts will be but a memory.My eyes dart back and forth between the calendar and our support percentage which isn't where it should be but that is a small matter to our great God.
I am overwhelmed by the human's natural response to steal victories from our God--victories that were His, clearly His--and after some time we begin to believe it was we who won those battles. Our strength that overcame obstacles. I naturally do not count personal gains as losses. I want to be cool, relevant, fashionable. I want to have a cute home and I live in a society that sees those things as blessings when His Word says blessings really come in the form of persecution, mourning, and poverty of spirit. Abundant life is understood by those whose hands are empty; deepest joys often stem from the greatest heartache, and it is usually tears that water the soul to produce the fruit of His Spirit.
I read from Isaiah today that the cities in Israel were prophesied to be just as desolate as the cities they once had conquered with Joshua due to their pride and idolatry, and I saw myself written in those pages. He defeats for me, yet my head grows big and my heart becomes lofty, and then I am wiped out by the very obstacle that He defeated. I long to have the humility of Christ, to attribute all victories to Him, to keep my eyes off myself. I long to see Him as He truly is, and thereby see myself as who I truly am: nothing without Him.
How do I love people with no expectation of return and also no pride in my "goodness"? I don't know if I have ever truly loved without one of those. My love so stems from self-interestedness, expecation, and honestly bragging rights if only in my heart. I'm sick by it. I long for pure love to flow deeply out of me. Void of self pats on the back or tallies on a mental board.
And yet His grace runs deeper than my selfishness and pride. It sanctifies my petty love attempts and rescues intentions. I wish I could fathom that so I could thank Him more fully.
I am making myself write more, which frustrates me because the more I write, the worse my writings are because I have less time to revise, which is probably just pride because I want everyone to think I'm an impeccable writer: those gains are losses too, I must remember.
We got our first love seat today and now have furniture in the living room that isn't a futon! We spent time in all three of our home towns, enjoying our time too much to have pictures to show, with both family and friends, eating pancakes and pizza, frolfing, celebrating birthdays, going to church and d r i v i n g [always] but those sweet times are worth it. Our together times are my favorite.
But work weeks are different: fighting for time together if that means dinner at 4:15 while he comes home on his hour break, showering earlier than normal to have time together when the other gets home from work, snuggling on the couch with coffee to keep me awake rather than napping during our 2-hour gap between shifts. The coffee is wearing off and I'm ready for bed but will stay awake for that handsome boy to walk through the door no later than 10:15 tonight because I believe the most precious things are worth fighting for.
Today was calmly lovely and it isn't just because I'm wearing flannel and jeans and warm socks (though that does cover 60% of it). After a 5 am shift and kissing my husband good-bye for his 10 hour shift, I had enough mental capacity to watch Hercules, go on a run, cook him an earlybird dinner, and delve into Isaiah (which is hard and scary). And my heart skips knowing that soon, in 24 days actually, we will put away our Fareway ties and 5 am shifts will be but a memory.My eyes dart back and forth between the calendar and our support percentage which isn't where it should be but that is a small matter to our great God.
I am overwhelmed by the human's natural response to steal victories from our God--victories that were His, clearly His--and after some time we begin to believe it was we who won those battles. Our strength that overcame obstacles. I naturally do not count personal gains as losses. I want to be cool, relevant, fashionable. I want to have a cute home and I live in a society that sees those things as blessings when His Word says blessings really come in the form of persecution, mourning, and poverty of spirit. Abundant life is understood by those whose hands are empty; deepest joys often stem from the greatest heartache, and it is usually tears that water the soul to produce the fruit of His Spirit.
I read from Isaiah today that the cities in Israel were prophesied to be just as desolate as the cities they once had conquered with Joshua due to their pride and idolatry, and I saw myself written in those pages. He defeats for me, yet my head grows big and my heart becomes lofty, and then I am wiped out by the very obstacle that He defeated. I long to have the humility of Christ, to attribute all victories to Him, to keep my eyes off myself. I long to see Him as He truly is, and thereby see myself as who I truly am: nothing without Him.
How do I love people with no expectation of return and also no pride in my "goodness"? I don't know if I have ever truly loved without one of those. My love so stems from self-interestedness, expecation, and honestly bragging rights if only in my heart. I'm sick by it. I long for pure love to flow deeply out of me. Void of self pats on the back or tallies on a mental board.
And yet His grace runs deeper than my selfishness and pride. It sanctifies my petty love attempts and rescues intentions. I wish I could fathom that so I could thank Him more fully.
I am making myself write more, which frustrates me because the more I write, the worse my writings are because I have less time to revise, which is probably just pride because I want everyone to think I'm an impeccable writer: those gains are losses too, I must remember.
Comments
Post a Comment