Out Pours My Heart
Sometimes my mind can't help but to think back about how things used to be. It was just over two months ago that my life was drastically different.
My life is woven with my previous home. It was all I ever knew. It means little to you... I know that. It wouldn't, it shouldn't. But to me it was everything. I remember the dining room table that I sat at everyday for 11 years. The way Andrew holds his bowl to his lips to drink every last drip of soup. I can still hear Daddy's voice when he first gets home from work. I can remember every mark and scratch on the walls in the hall. I can see the rose bush in front of the house and it's red roses in the vase in the kitchen. I can hear Clara's voice below my window as she rides her bike outside. Kandace singing harmony to the radio.
My room. I remember sitting at my desk, the sun shinning through my thin green curtains. I can still feel myself spin my chair around as I throw my legs up on my bed as I read a book. I can hear Mama's voice... she was calling me to set the table. I close my window, shutting out the cool air. The mountains loom in splendor in the distance.
Typing such things bring tears to my eyes. You want to hear my heart? Do you want a break from my heavy blog posts? This is it. This is my heart.
Time is a glorious thing to me and yet like a knife in my chest. I sometimes struggle to have faith. I have always struggled to believe without a shadow of a doubt. But somehow right when I feel like I'm sinking, my Maker sweeps me up just in time.
What have I feared? I fear that Andrew and Clara will forget me. My memories at 7 years old are blurry at best. Will theirs be the same? I wonder if they will forget how I used to pull them to me in service at church and kiss the top of their heads. I wonder if Clara will remember our walks to the creek. Will Andrew forget how I snuggled up to him as I read him stories? Will Kandace forget how it was to sit on my bed and tell me her worries? What will happen to my piano? Is my music still the way I left it?
I used to criticize myself for asking such questions. I told myself that everyone thinks I'm strong all the time, so I shouldn't be weak. But I learned that that would kill me. I learned that recently. It is okay to cry. It is okay to miss my church. It's okay to acknowledge that my fingers miss my piano. Those feelings don't offend God. It doesn't make Him nervous. He can handle my issues.
Though I have cried more times over the last while than I care to admit. I feel like I'm becoming stronger, by finally admitting I'm weak.
Only a couple hours ago a man in uniform walked into my home, he pulled me into his arms and I am reminded that I am his wife. Somehow, though my heart has been stretched and prodded and poked, I am doing good because of that truth.
I have everything I need. I love my new home, I really do. I love my husband. He laughs when I laugh and he cries when I cry. He rolls over in the early morning light and though I know I look horrible, he whispers, "Good morning, beautiful." And he means it.
I wouldn't trade ANYTHING for where I am. I have moved on from what I was, who I was. It will always be a part of me. I will never change that and wouldn't want to, but I have a knew life.
Just when I felt like the silence was too much in my knew home, God lead me outside to the park. Children's squeals and voices met my ears and I felt such peace. Just when I miss my church back in Wilkesboro, God lead someone to welcome us into another church... to make us feel wanted.
Am I strong? No. God is. When I am weak, He is strong. I am not sure about when we will make some more friends around here, I am not sure about the route God is leading me in my education and in college, I am not sure about a church yet, I am not sure about many things. It's all alright though. I am sure that God knows. I know that my wonderful husband and I will pursue His will.
I am so proud of Josh. He is a light to a dark world. He is constantly telling me of ways God is letting him tell others about Jesus. That handsome man is my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, will be the father of our children, the love of my life. He is my role model.
You have heard my heart. It isn't perfect. It hurts, yet it sings and it's often confused. All I know is it's in my Father's hands and there it is safe. That's enough peace for me.