Finding Clarity

Nothing brings about self-reflection quite like writing does.  For me, anyway.

Playing with words. Sure, that's fun.  Many people write out of sheer love for language. I'm not the best at pretty words. As an English major in college, I quickly figured that one out.  Many a wordsmith has outshown me and danced circles around my fumblesome self with sheer eloquency as I grappled to to make my point in a way that someone might take slight pause to consider before stomping over it with impressive verbosity.  Granted, the more I've written, the more I've improved.  Still, it's not reason enough to write.

Skills and hobbies? Bragging rights?  Sure, they have their perks.  But I'm not crafty.  I drool over pinterest like most other women do who want to dress like supermodels while baking like Paula Dean in a home surrounded with decor worthy of Martha Stewart; but I don't do any of these things well.  As far as I can tell, I don't have much to brag about in the world's eyes.  I'm not starting up companies or running marathons or birthing babies.  I care very little for politics, celebrities, or sports.  These things bring me no inspiration for writing.

So, no, I don't write for any of these things.  Sure, I occasionally write to entertain, more myself than anyone.  But, mostly, I write to unscramble my head.  Like untangling knots out of my curly hair after a shower, when I've been given time to reflect and sit in silence I find that I need to sort the mess inside my head much more than the strands on top.

I haven't written many posts in the past year... or two.  Inspiration leaked from me as I left China, almost as though I was a balloon poked by a tack.  I looked towards people and different relationships to fill me up, again, but it didn't work.  It's taken some time, but I'm feeling a bit more in tact. 

You see, I've been putting a box around the one being that could fill me up again; Yes, I'm talking about God.

I've spent years of my life listening to people preach about His goodness and, then, doing the same.  I've said time and time again that good works will not make you right with Him, but I secretly seemed to think they would.  I tried to put a human box around the Lord.  I've hidden from Him in my selfish and pathetic moments.  I didn't always bother asking forgiveness for my sins, because, well, people who apologize all the time can get really annoying. 

Sometimes, I swear, I can almost see God rolling His eyes at me. 

God, well, I've never had a problem believing that He is exceptional.  However, I believed He was like..... an exceptional person.  So it only made sense to think that He wouldn't want anything to do with me unless I was exceptional, too.  When, I felt exceptional, it was all good.  And when I didn't, I needed Him to give me space until I got it together again.

One picture of God that helps me most is this one: God is an artist.  As it turns out, I am an ever changing, ever-evolving substance in His hands.  He is willing to work with me, so who am I to write myself off?  For when I am weak, then I am  strong.

Dude.  If I was in the middle of a painting and someone told me just to give up I'd be seriously ticked.  "I'm just getting started!" I'd think, "Who are you to interrupt my work in progress? Who are you to tell me it's finished?"  No one else can have the vision of an artist. 

Granted, I'm not a great artist, so that wasn't the best example.  How about this one:

I have an 8th grader who can't read.  Well, he can a little. But we're talking Kindergarten level.  When I see him, though, I am hungry... I'm telling you hungry, for an opportunity to help him.  But he's so self-conscious.  I mean so self-conscious.  He's constantly putting on a show to hide the fact that he can't read.  And it's not working.  He's not fooling anybody.  And he's miserable, so very miserable because he's trying to deal with it alone.  I know that he hates that he can't read well.  It embarrasses him everyday.  But he's fighting me on it.  He doesn't want my help.  Why?  Is he afraid I'll roll my eyes at his inabilities?  He must not know me at all.

I think.... that's how God must feel about me.  And you, if you're reading.

This is us....

Stumbling.  Grappling out of sheer pride to afford our own balance, without anyone's help.  But, then, finally allowing ourselves to quit trying to hide our flaws. And then turn to God.  And with attempted defiance shout at Him, "Welp. Look at me. What can you do with this?!" And then, in that humility, realize... you're an idiot.

Yes. An idiot.

'Cause God was there all along, and you really didn't need to make it that hard.

Just saying.

 Finding clarity isn't always pretty.  But, as it turns out, it's kind of a relief.