Broken

In the past two weeks depression set in and I've longed to be with Jesus. I'm so weary here, even while I still have strength left, and hope too. Peter and my husband want to see Jesus too, but the others still have plans, like being Mommies and dancers and novel writers or newspaper reporters.

Formerly, I wanted the Lord to hold off in coming because I wanted to get married, and then I wanted to be a mother, and then I wanted to be a mother again and again. And then I wanted to nurse them all and savor their baby and toddler years. And then I wanted to see what my children would chose for their lives. And finally, I wanted to rejoice in the different ways they would serve God.

But lately, I just want to go Home, though with my family, not without them. It's time Jesus meets us in the clouds, don't you think?

There is fleeting joy several times a day, but there's much pain too, with OCD being the worst of it. And my daughter's arthritis, and aging, and a too-tight budget, though God always provides for needs. My husband has a mild form of pneumonia, and life just keeps on going, seemingly harder by the day, while still punctuated by much grace.

Maybe it's the roller coaster ride that is life, and me just wanting to get off, for I've been on the ride too many times. Or something like that. The hormones of a 49 year old can't be trusted. Maybe next week I'll be bursting with enthusiasm.

The only time this feeling has lifted lately has been during family devotions. During devotions, it's the best that it gets on earth. It's perfect. No, the children aren't perfectly behaved at this time, but that doesn't detract from the perfect feel of hearts glued one to another, and to Him.

We read directly from the Bible, or we read hard-hitting, amazing stories that illustrate certain passages of Scripture and spur us on in the faith. And then we pray, taking turns. We let it all out. All of it. We humble ourselves and apologize to God for all manner of wrong attitudes or careless words. We remember each other's sufferings large and small, and we feel strengthened by the mere mentioning of them before our Glorious, All Powerful, Merciful God. It really is as though they transfer from our shoulders, to His, by the mere mentioning.

Prayer is a discipline, for there is so much to mention at each sitting, from the beginning praises and thank yous, to the sins and finally the petitions. It is mentally and emotionally cleansing when we don't rush it.

Sometimes I wish we could do devotions all day long and call it life, you know?

But I get it. I really do.

God delights in us and loves it when we sit with him and learn of him. He fills us so we can fill others. He wants that none shall perish. We can't sit on the couch all day just receiving from God. Now go, he says. I filled you, now go and be my disciples, loving your neighbor through my Holy Spirit power, and using the collective gifts I gave you to build my Church.

We get up from the couches and chairs and then we go and do the Word. And it ain't easy, but it's the fulfillment of our purpose, these daily dances of sitting, receiving, and giving it away, only to do it again 10 hours later.

The Lord said, remain in Me and I'll remain in you.

I know I could do all the things God delights in so much better if I just didn't have this human body, which is a problematic vessel, from headaches, to vein aches, to hormone aches, to joint aches. It slows me down mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I realize that while the body is perfectly formed and perfectly designed, it is fallen and so it's a nuisance. And it isn't just aging; even young bodies can be problematic.

The morning devotions spur me on until late afternoon, at which time it's clear we all need another round of Grace, through Scripture and Prayer, after dinner. We're depleted and we're sinning more, the more hours we're removed from the morning devotional.

Never before have I felt such a strong dependence on God presence and on his Word. I need it desperately, like a parched desert soul.

 I'm 49 and I am broken.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.


Psalm 51:17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Isaiah 57:15 For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.

Matthew 5:2-12 And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. ...