The wind was howling
And my husband was snoring
And it was one of those pain-filled-lying-awake-kind-of-nights.
But yet there was a difference this time. Traveling along this road of brokenness, I am falling onto the comfort where Jesus has been waiting for me. My last post shared about the truce with my body, and the surrender that required. I have held onto anxiety about my body, and too often missed the peace that Jesus would have given. He is in the howling wind storm that swirls inside this body; Peace in the midst of the Storm.
And this broken body of mine is ready to express the growing that is birthed out of those kinds of storms.
Most of my friends have at one time or another received one of my creative offerings. Whether it was a hand-sewn craft, or a hand-lettered verse, or a home-grown plant, you get the idea: I loved to bless with the work of my hands. But my hands were the first thing to be changed in this Rheumatoid Arthritis Journey. The strength and the detail required were simply not there any longer. And the joy in my creating was gone as well. I missed the satisfaction that came with a job well done. I missed the grace that was required to place a small detail in just the right way at just the right time. And I missed the process of planning an idea from beginning to end. I tried small projects, but was disappointed that I could not fulfill the idea that was in my head. And then the ideas stopped too, when the fatigue and fog of this chronic disease stole my normal way of processing thoughts.
But Jesus in me did not stop expressing His ideas. This blog is one of those expressions. But there is another way that He has been asking me to explore the NEW. I inherited some of my older brother’s art supplies when he passed away from cancer several years ago. Watercolors and instruction books have stared at me from the bookshelf. “I could never paint,” the old, detailed-me spoke often enough. Pen and ink lettering was my style. Not the free flowing expression of feeling that watercolor required. But that is exactly what the Lord is requiring now:
Comfort in the growing.
This is the difference that last night proved to me. The growing is where God’s Comfort is. Flowing where I can’t plan anything anymore, His Words and His Ideas express themselves nevertheless. He does not require my planning, just my willingness to let Him mold and shape and move through this howling wind that is inside of me. Peace be still, He speaks to the storm. And I will move with Him.
“And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” Mark 4:39
I am linking today with TheFaithBarista, for her #OneWordLent series, where the word today is brokenness: