Ready or Not, Here I Am

It's been a while...

Seems I always start that way.

But now it's Lent and part of what I am doing is slowing down, writing, being.

It's hard. The being part. Just being. Not worrying about where else I should be or who wants me doing what. Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at never stopping. It's become a source of pride almost - look at all that I can do! Throw in something else if you dare! I can do it all.

So far I've been able to do just that, but at what cost?

More importantly, why? Why must I do it all? Have I allowed the fear of disappointing someone with a "no" or "not me" take priority over savoring the moments of nothingness, stillness? Or have I grown afraid of the stillness, the quiet?

One of the devotionals I try to read regularly challenged readers to summarize their spiritual journeys in a sentence. Without much thought, the words to Amazing Grace popped in my head. Yet, this time the words did not really ring true for me. I am not lost. I was not lost. I have not been found. Instead, in that moment, I realized with much clarity that rather than lost, I have been hiding.

And while I have been hiding, God has not been looking for me and, thus, has not found me. He does not need to look or find, He has known where I have been all along. You see, this game of hide-and-seek we are playing is like one you would play with a very small child. I am hiding and He is standing close by pretending He doesn't know where I am. He is waiting for me to come out. Occasionally, He will remind me that He is nearby with a beautiful sky or a gentle wind, like a father making an exaggerated cough or claiming loudly that he "just can't find" his little rascal. And then He waits some more, until finally I give up and come out from my hiding spot.

On my run yesterday evening, He gave me the beautiful evening sky shown in the picture (which my mid-stride IPhone shot does not do justice to). He was there. He has always been there.

So this Lent, I am just giving up. I am giving up doing everything in favor of doing nothing. Obviously, I cannot always do nothing, but I can certainly do more nothing. I can actually get on the floor and play with the girls without looking around at the mess I could be cleaning (which inevitably leads to me actually cleaning it). I can read a book or write a poem without thinking of the things I "need" from the store and running out for them. I can let the laundry and dishes pile up (within reason) and play a board game or watch a movie instead.

For the next 40-days I will not hide and I will not numb myself with busy-ness. I will be and I will feel and I will let myself be filled with that Amazing Grace that can save even a wretch like me. So ready or not, here I am.