loving through your hard days of covenanting
So I go ahead and I crawl under your skin.
You sigh back words. But I go ahead and I pour.
And I am sat there looking at you with more thoughts bursting in my head and I let them mumble into words and a rant. Words that hurt.
And really I want you to say – something back. But you keep sighing back your words.
And honest? Each time I am done ‘talking’, the silence I am met with just makes me want to raise my voice and – run mad all at once.
But still you say nothing. And maybe you get it. Yea maybe you do. Thank God one of us does.
Maybe unlike me, you know you can’t get me all the time, so you’d rather hold back words than let out words that could lit a fire.
And yeah maybe I should know better.
Then it was that time in the quiet of that Saturday morning when I pushed you a cup of tea and pushed too hard and you said these words: “you always want me to see things from your own perspective. you always want things your way…”
No – I don’t. I whispered. Your words quickly quieted me.
No – I don’t.
I sighed back and inhaled your truth.
Because this is the truth: it turns out your disappointment in the things that don’t turn out or look the way you want them to can wear you out and stifle your thankfulness for the things that are treasure.
And I can rant all day about the toilet seat and the crumbs across the kitchen floor after you’ve made your bread and jam. And maybe I can keep going on and on about the way I see things and you should too; and how glass cups are stored and how cutleries are laid and how I think trash should go out every night, that I quickly forget how you’d stand right there next to me at the kitchen sink doing dishes and brushing arms. How you are always close. How you are always steady. I could forget how you’d sit and listen to me as I act out my day in silly voices and you’d say: “I like how you tell stories. It’s funny.”
And in this moment of truth when our hearts are a little sore, I get some sense. And I just want to know: “Babe, what about us have you been most thankful for lately?” I ask shyly.
You sigh your thoughts. You always think. I should do more of that. I should taste my words before I serve them to you.
“We’ve been laughing a lot lately. I mean – a lot of belly laughs.” You say.
And we chuckle.
Yes, we have had a lot of those.
How quickly you can forget the gifts that have filled your heart, that you find yourself standing there with open arms asking for more.
And if you scratched out a list of the gifts you have been given you would never run out of words, so why do you want more. When was love no longer enough?
If you let the love of God wrap you raw, you’d begin to see that His presence alone is enough. And if you ask long enough, He’d make you answer: “If I don’t do one more thing, will you still praise Me?”
Would love be enough? Would the Cross be enough?
Because love is what fills you in the silence.
God wants us to know that what we’ve been given is enough.
Who we are is enough. What we have is enough. We are enough.
And honest, I am really sorry. Your eyes forgive.
And right there with raw hearts, hurt fades away and hands join and we find our middle again.
– We surrender to love again.
And God gives more of Himself when we can love and praise Him even if He didn’t do one more thing.
And it turns out: His sons are made just like Him.