Nicole

A picture inside of today:
For the past four days, I’ve been spending the days with a group of children (my girls and nieces and nephew) ages 10, 9, 8, 7, 7 and 4. The conversations around the lunch table consist of tooth loss, bath bubbles little boy style, strange food habits, passing ketchup covered nuggets hand to hand, bicycle stunts, eating on the couch privileges, and things daddies say. Their greatest rush and tension of the day is hurrying back outside to ride bikes and work on the bicycle town. They’re extraordinary. I have been so so tired at the end of the day, so extremely unmotivated for much other than routine. Today I asked Bryan to please remind me not to return to the mush that I am. I admit so freely that I am at my best when community is reflected day to day. But some scorched summer days filled with children don’t lend themselves to much else.
I feel called back to a zeal that lived in my first love for Christ, and more – that realization that He loved and saw me. Pray that I can know how to surrender all of the ways ministry seems like work instead of a pouring out, and find Him as the source. There’s a bit to be undone in my thinking. It’s complex and new, so the roots not yet deep there and nothing holds as much strength as His calling. This is all stemming from His calling me back to Him.

It’s eerie. When I walked into prayer Sunday morning before service, the directions from His spirit jumped out of my mouth. When I was surrounded there in that little room, He said to return to the first love I knew, that there had come so many distractions, and that my vision had become cloudy.

I knew in my heart all of the promises He had spoken to me before. It was as if I was waking again somehow. From some coma. It was a little glint of light, and a small sweet little voice. it’s had to describe, so hard to describe, but after I listened to the podcast from Sunday on Monday night, I was alarmed and awakened fully and was afraid of how long I’d been sleep walking. God – I’ll die, I so quickly die without the seeking first. And I had plenty of excuses – busyness, my mom’s stroke and helping her every day, 3 kids, children’s ministry, nausea, fatigue. But all of these things must be fueled in the power of the spirit or else death feels like the next turn.
I’ve been having a hard time, and have had loneliness on top of it all and surrounded with so many children. Maybe I should have let someone know to pray for me. Next storm – maybe I will. Be here now. It’s been hard, and still is. But, all that to say, through my weakness and lethargy, I STILL AM BEING CHASED.
Good poetry comes from seasons like this for me. Something in me likes loneliness, and the state of being a sad hermit. I default to that as I have confessed. I secretly look forward to being old and alone with coffee and an old clunky typewriter and a wiry gray bun on the back of my head. Strange. But – now that I’ve known all of you, I can’t help but miss you, and He won’t allow me to sink into hiding. It’s the curse of holy love that wars wars wars with what comes naturally. But the taste of abundant life embitters days of quiet. So, I am writing a hello. Hello.
I love you.