There have been so many times, countless even, over the past several months that I have not even taken the time to sit down to write. I wanted to write- well, sort of. More honestly, I felt I should be writing something... anything... because I love words and especially words that create stories. But these past several months the only thing that has registered loud & repetitive in my mind was, 'I have no words' (even though it sounded more like I.HAVE.NO.WORDS!). So when that would happen, I simply just didn't write. Why would I? I felt (and believed) that I actually have no words. Tonight, as I was sitting on my couch counting down the last hours of 2020 by myself, I felt something happen in me. I felt it so deep down inside me that all I could do was cry. Deep, honest, hot, vulnerable tears. The kind of tears that rock your soul and penetrate your spirit in such a way that time just comes to a complete standstill, when everything around you just suddenly freezes. And as I breathed through those moments, I felt both an equal measure of peace... and of fear (possibly even dread). Lately God has been tapping me on the shoulder in areas of my life where I am slipping. When I am not reaching out when I feel lonely, I notice that tap-tap on my shoulder. When I get to feeling too down to pull myself back up again, I notice that tap-tap on my shoulder. When I find myself rushing through moments, and days, and weeks- with very little to show for it, I notice that tap-tap on my shoulder. And when I believe the lie that I have no words... there it is again, that tap-tap on my shoulder. You might wonder why God would choose to tap me on the shoulder. I mean, can you imagine, God -who has infinite power to create both the heavens and the earth, to breathe life into our mere human bodies, to number the very hairs on our head, to cause the sun to rise and the sun to set, with a love that is as far as the East is from the West, with grace that cannot be fully absorbed because it has no end... tap-taps me on my shoulder. God is so powerful and mighty that in the very distance that exists between two seconds of time, he can rearrange my entire life and everyone in it. And yet, HE... just tap-taps me on my shoulder.
Let me take you back with me to a time in my life when God's presence overwhelmed me. My life was chaos, a mess, completely & utterly out of control... my first marriage had ended, I didn't have much money to my name, I was trying to single-handedly resurrect beauty from the ashes of the previous 11 years of my life, and I felt defeated, hopeless, and without any direction. And in that, in those very scary and lonely moments, I could feel the presence of God as if he was sitting right there with me breathing hope and courage into my heart and my spirit. I could almost tangibly feel his grace pour over me, his peace fill my soul, and his mercy wrap it's loving arms around my tired and worn down spirit. He gave me life when I felt like I was done with mine. I will never (never) be able to adequately put into words how he saved me when I faced that very dark night of the soul. Now, twenty years later, he just tap-taps me on my shoulder to get my attention. That thing I mentioned before about feeling something happen in me, deep down inside me, that caused deep, honest, hot, vulnerable tears... well that was me facing the reality that God was no longer sitting beside me, embracing me with his grace and mercy... he was outside of me, tap-tapping my shoulder to be asked back in. It isn't that I quit believing in God (or the universe, or a higher power, or 'fill in the blank' with whatever God is to you) but I had quit believing that God still loved me. I mean I haven't been pursuing my passion of opening an outreach center (if I am not achieving greatness by pursuing my passion how could God possibly keep loving me the same?). I haven't been gathering donated goods to help girls and women in need (if I am not doing a great work of service how could God possibly love me?). I haven't been giving of my time, my money, or even my heart toward those things that could really make a difference in the world around me (if I am not leaving my spiritual footprint how could God keep loving me the same?). I feel it is very important to add, right at this very moment, that this is not me being down on myself or conveying that I am failing- this isn't about that. Last night, when I felt something shift inside me, I was able to not only see, but to actually feel the impact of the change that had taken place in me. I had somehow, someway, without even realizing it... fallen back under the power of the lies.
God doesn't love me because of my passions, service, accomplishments, good deeds, or clean spiritual record... he loves me in spite of those. I am a human, made of flesh and bone, and God loved me in the beginning before I was even formed. So why would I fall prey to those lies and actually pull back from a God who loves me at my best as well as at my very worst? And not only pull back, but desperately cling to a fig leaf to hide my nakedness from him. Why did I suddenly feel overly-exposed, utterly naked, and completely unlovable? It's that damn'd human condition, Baby! Somewhere along the way, my mind- while holding hands with my spirit and my soul, had fallen back into the old thinking of having to earn God's love, grace and mercy in my life. It is sometimes funny to me when I look at absurdities. God has shown up time and time again when my life was utterly despicable. I was drowning in alcohol, whatever drugs I could stuff in my system, laying naked with men I didn't even know the name of... I couldn't keep a bank account open, I would light one cigarette after the next instead of eating real food, I would marinate in suicidal thoughts and unloving behaviors toward myself, I would isolate from or lash out at those who tried to love me. At the times I was the most covered in sin and disgrace, God showed up. He still loved me through my mess. And he never once, not one time, hid his face from me. Now warp the timeline forward to today- and all I get is a tap-tap on my shoulder when my life isn't what I 'thought' it should look like by now. Have you ever been upset with someone that you love, and when they try to talk to you or to say something meaningful to you, you just pretend like you didn't (or can't) hear them? You actually find strange twisted pleasure in making them work for it, to say it again or in a different way so that you can now act like you were finally able to hear them. Well, God tap-tapping me on my shoulder was my way of pretending I didn't hear him. And instead of giving God a little grace of my own, I just punished him a little bit more by blocking him out. He won't force his way- ever. He won't make me listen to him, look at him, or even love him. As a human I wouldn't want to force someone else to listen, look at, or love me. I would want them to do it because they loved me that much. And that, my friends, is why God has been tap-tapping me on my shoulder. He desires for me to want (to really want) to listen to him, to want to look at him, to want to love him. And to do that, I just need to invite him in.
Right about now you might be wondering what awful thing I have done to lock God out, so to speak. I can honestly say there is no big defining moment as it happened a little bit at a time. It started at first with a twinge of anger and then kept growing from there. A twinge of anger about how I came all the way back to Oregon expecting this life overflowing with all good things- things like a fabulous job, a handsome romantic interest, a bulging savings account, a skyrocketed career, a house beyond my imagination, vaca-after-vaca to beautiful destinations, lots and lots (and lots) of time spent with my kids and grand daughters, days filled with more invitations that hours in the day, time doing outrageously fun & fabulous things with my family & friends... you name it, I wanted it to the degree that I expected it. I viewed moving back from sunny Southern California as the ransom I paid to have a beautiful-beyond-words life back in Oregon (spit, vomit, swallow- you know that burning bile after a good puke? Well, there ya go). That twinge of anger that I directed at God, it started with me expecting this life that he had not even tentatively drawn out in pencil- let alone in ink. Everything, down to and including the smallest detail, was all in my mind. Not his. Could I have made those things I expected happen? Probably so. I could have muscled and wrenched my way into stellar job positions stuffing money into savings instead of paying to keep the power on. I could have forced romantic relationships just so I could say (and show the world) that I had one, damn it! I could have used money I didn't have to go on vaca-after-vaca, buying houses I could not even afford, just to satisfy my expectations. I could have knocked on doors repeatedly of family & friends that clearly are fine with just keeping it to holidays or special occasions that happen to take place on their end of the highway - or I could have strong-armed invitations to spend time with people who already seemed to have a full circle of their own. I could have purchased plane tickets I didn't have the money to buy just to be there with my grand daughters when all those moments I felt like I was missing out on, were happening. Heck, I could have forced, pleaded, dueled, argued, and demanded my way in to the life I thought I should be living. (For those go getters out there, if that's your MO... keep on keep'n on. It's just not mine). My MO- or means of operation, is painting this beautiful, colorful, completely (dare I even say) perfect (sigh!) picture of the life I believe I should have... and just expecting it to happen, ya know- because God loves me and shit. (I can literally see this picture in my mind of God holding my life painting in one hand and looking at his penciled in drawing of my life in the other and just shaking his head). Just for the record, my life has never (never) looked like the one I paint or create in my own mind. And thank God for that! If my life looked anything like the paintings I can compose in my mind- lets just say it would come up lacking. Every.frick'n.time. It's not that the things I desire, or would even want to paint for my life, are bad things. Many of them are in fact good and would feel good. But I have found time and again that my plans are so very limiting and so very dull. God sees my life without rose colored glasses. He sees the cavities and the stains (so to speak) and he still draws out the most beautiful life for me. He includes relationships that will grow me, stay-ca's that will enrich me, a budget that will stretch me, and housing that keeps getting smaller & tighter just to purge me. His plan and intention, so opposite of mine, is to let those parts of me that need to drop away, do just that. Sometimes it's by discomfort. Other times it's by defeat. Still other times it's by painful parting. As I try to cling to, clutch onto, or desperately drag behind those things he is tearing away- I am the only one getting worn out and bruised. And God, well... he just keeps smiling. Even if I can't, he sees where I am going. And where I am going is far better than anything that I could think, dream, or ever imagine. And yes, that tap-tap on my shoulder, was the tap-tap I needed to wake my sorry ass up and to invite him back in.