a new season {and letting go of the myth of everything}

Some days, I feel brokenness seeping out of me like murky water from a sopping wet sponge. I can't seem to contain it - the fall, the ache, the groan of all creation expressed through my bitter words, my devastating pride, my empty ambition.

Yesterday, I sat with the swelling seed of envy rising through my self, skimming pictures and pins and words - signposts of my seeming inadequacy. What a weed is cultivated in me each day with the simple opening of my laptop screen.

I slammed it shut, with tears spilling over onto my pale cheeks. Windows were open for work, school, play, dinner, everything and nothing all at once.

I am no friend of Rosie the Riveter. I can't do it. I certainly can't do it all.

Fall is slipping through the gateway to the West. The sun shines a little shorter each day, a little cooler. My soul is feeling again the restlessness that awakes with the change of each season. Where did the summer scurry away to? It was too short and too long, all at the same time.

I used to think - when I was in that phase just a few short months ago - that packing and saying goodbye was the hardest part of moving.

It's not.

The hardest part, the bone-wearying, soul-emptying, marriage-trying and God-questioning part is the unpacking. It's saying hello. It's trying on new friends and new favorites and new to the infinity, when all I want is the old.

The Lord is unrooting me - yanking out angry weeds of comfort, security, envy, and perhaps my favorite of all: the weed of everything.

I can't be everything. I can't be everything - or even something, really - to everyone. I can't fix everything.

But He has and He does - and the beauty of the sacred union between God and man is simply that we are partakers of all His good, and He takes on the burden of all our bad. Where I have nothing, bring nothing, give nothing - He both gives and takes everything, so that I might be freed up to live a life of total worship.

And in the empty landscape of a new home, I am begging for the freedom to learn that, to let that truth soak down into the fertile soil of a heart made new each morning. To provide shade, grace, and time for the Lord to do His good work in me, so that I might one day do the same - in whatever form it might take - in my little corner of the world.

Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work. {2 Timothy 2:21}