though they are dainty, they are still yellow and a welcomed sight after such a long winter. summer school is essentially code for: let's play outside. blue skies are in abundance and make me feel anything but blue. naked gers are almost as much fun as clothed ones.
That is the day I last wrote a blog. That's not the day when my life changed but it is a day that I can recognize as one of the last ones when I knew who I was and what my purpose was.
I'm not generally a quitter. Sure, sometimes I quit on books or I quit on small projects but in life, nope. I try hard at most things, usually right until the end. I won't say that quitting is not a thought that meanders through my being when something gets tough but I have come to learn that when I stick things out I come out having learned a thing or two.
But I did quit. I quit a big commitment. I said I would live in Washington, DC and I would do my best.
I tried. I also had my very first panic attack, too.
It was too much. I couldn't think or breathe. I couldn't cope with the devastation I felt for leaving Mongolia early that March morning. I couldn't cope with no one understanding what Mongolia had meant to me and how it had changed me right down to my bo…
Jesus, I come into the warmth of your presence
knowing that you are
the very emptiness of God.
I come before you
holding the water jar of my life.
Your eyes meet mine
and I know what I'd rather not know.
I came to be filled
but I am already full.
I am too full
This is my sickness
I am full of things
that crowd out
your healing presence.
A holy knowing steals inside my heart
and I see a painful truth.
I don't need more
I need less
I am too full.
I am full of things that block out
your golden grace.
I am smothered by gods of my own creation
I am lost in the forest of my false self
I am full of my own opinions and narrow attitudes
full of fear, resentments, control
full of self-pity, and arrogance.
Slowly this terrible truth
pierces my heart
I am so full there is no room for you.
Contemplatively, and with compassion
you ask me to reach into my water jar.
One by one, Jesus, you enable me
to lift out the things
that are a hindrance to my wholeness.