Time out

Hi all!

You're probably all been wondering what I've been doing with myself since Seth's pesky appendix came out. Any guesses? You're probably thinking I've taken up cricket or bringing my butterfly stroke to Olympic perfection.
Close... or maybe not...actually... not at all. I haven't. I have been taking some time out with my family over these past few weeks. I've been spending a lot of time investing in my heart, soul, and mind, because it's easy for these precious treasures to become dusty and rusty and muddled, as life carelessly crashes over its bearings.
To be honest, in some ways, I'd been feeling a bit off, wounded even, perhaps. Hurt by words, by weight, by a persons unknowing, that just kept building up, leaving me left feeling like an old ugly clam shell, colors muted, unlovely, and incapable and worn.
Thankfully, I haven't been left here, in this lonely place (is there no greater punishment than solitary confinement?). Rather, the One who bent down to wash the dirty feet of his beloved even hours before violence would overwhelm His flesh, bent down picked me up, brushed me off, and showed me my reflection, but with His mirror.
In these moments of despair, in His mirror I saw something new, something I hadn't seen for a while- hope. Just a little piece of it. Ask for help, He said (aren't we really bad at this?) looking at my grubby calloused soul, You're in need of a massage, Him who alone could see how dull my soul had become. Hubby and I spent much time talking and processing together this past time we've gone through. He spent time watching the kids so I could spend extra time seeking healing for my heart. I've been reading and reflecting, journaling, and processing with dear treasured friends. These, who've bent down to rub words of truth down deep, at times painfully deep, yet leaving in its wake, beauty and truth.
A number of years ago, I had a dream, and to be completely honest, I'd forgotten about it until recently. In my dream it was evening. I was in an elaborate foyer, filled with flowers, and gold, and strings of pearls. I was wearing a lovely stunning gown. When I entered the banquet hall, everyone stood and cheered. It was a giant, ornate lovely party, and I was the honored guest. The party was for me and I had no idea why.

...and that's all I could remember. Bummer huh?

This week found me in another lovely room. The room too was full of flowers, beauty, soft music, and lots of chocolate. I sat down at one of the tables off to the side of the room. A young women sat next to me, bowed her head, and then started drawing. When she was done, she quietly leaned over and said "This is going to sound a little strange..." and showed me the picture the Father had spoken to her to draw for me.

"I saw you, wearing a beautiful gown. It was evening. You were going to a banquet where you were the guest of honor. The Lord was honoring  you for all the sacrifices you've made, for all your hard work to love, for all that you've done for His glory."

I was now a sobbing mess, as I shared with this young woman who I didn't know, the story of my dream, and how what she'd shared made beautiful sense to me.

Now I could see clearly, it was my reflection in His mirror.  All those lies we as women are told...  "This is your fault... You're incapable... You're an awful _____ (insert role here)," lies that we are blatantly, -or worse- subtlety, inundated with, whose never ceasing crashing over our souls has left them battered and bruised. So nothing like that mirror in His hands.

Are we aware of these lies we bear? Do we have eyes to see what it's doing to our most tender pieces? And leaving us blinded to these same lies so subtlety tumbling out, touching anyone in it's reach. Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.

Speak words of life, instead, to those who hear you. Be comfort, not condemnation to those who mourn, are tired and washed out, bearing wounds large or small. Perhaps they too have forgotten. Let them see in His mirror His beauty that is in you, cherished you. Speak life.