Still Here

I want to write about joy. I want to write about being filled. I want to write about how much I trust God. I want to write about new and exciting and broader intellectual and social issues like Rachel Held Evans' current series on egalitarianism and the ever thoughtful and ridiculously well read and well articulated, Tim Hoiland. 

But I don’t feel it right now. It’s been a struggle to blog lately because my story is the same. My struggles the same. My thoughts the same.

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m still here. I’m a broken record, a radio tuned to one channel only: the waiting.

I’m still here, enveloped in the darkness waiting for light. Weeping tears waiting for joy. Mourning the loss of burnout and waiting for dancing.

I'm still reminding myself that He will restore my joy. I’ve written about it and written about it and, quite frankly, I’m sick of it.

Bucket List Day 20: Lunch at Boomerangs

I’ve embarked on challenges at work (like today's lunch at Boomerang's where they serve burgers as big as your head--check it out!), a creativity program at home, a Bucket List for my time left in San Diego, yet I still feel trapped, stuck in the waiting, tied to the tension of transition.

Much to my cynical chagrin, I have a habit of turning posts like these around. I’ll write the bad so I can get to the good. I write the beauty into the ashes. I surprise even myself with my optimism, with the hope that will shine its face in the darkest corners of my life.

But today I don’t want to turn it around. I just want to say I’m still here, still waiting. Not farther along than I hoped I’d be. Not reaping the innumerable benefits of my burnout blasters. Not filled with grace and gratitude and every other Ann Voskamp virtue I have tried unsuccessfully to cultivate.

Today I am simply still here.

Maybe the hope I need today, the only hope I’ll ever need, is knowing He’s still here when I’m still here.

He’s with me when I’m stuck and when I’m stubborn. He’s with me when I drag my feet and when I cling to comfort even as I demand excitement and adventure. He’s with me when I can’t move or am waiting to move or simply have become too tired to even think of making a move.

So, friends, I am sorry to admit that I am still here, but I will cling to the hope that He is still here, too.

***

And, because I am still here, I will offer up yet another Psalm with promises of restored joy and of renewed laughter. I will focus yet again on the promise He has given me. I don't know about you, but I definitely need to hear it again. 

Psalm 126 

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dreamed.
 Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
 The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.

 Restore our fortunes, Lord,
like streams in the Negev.
 Those who sow with tears
will reap with songs of joy.
 Those who go out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with them.