for my next trick, i will open my heart even more.

i have written in the past about my parents' wonderful prayer group that they have weekly in their home (see here and here). they have been hosting these meetings for the past 24 years, nearly the totality of my existence. it is such a sacrifice of love on their part. i know they benefit tremendously from it, but i know too that it is countless hours of work and preparation. i can only pray that i too will be so hospitable, so open to the lord's call to service and ministry.

last night, i was at prayer group. of late, it's been challenging for me to be there, i don't exactly know why. i have my suspicions, but i haven't been able to pinpoint the exact reason i've not felt 100% engaged.

last night, the message resounded deep in my heart, and surprisingly stirred up feelings of frustration and anger towards the lord. it was unexpected and unpleasant, and afterwards, i went home and cried on my husband's shoulder for half an hour.

the message itself was not cause for agony. in fact the message was poignant and beautiful. the lord whispered to my heart, and i proclaimed the message to all, saying,

do not be afraid to come empty. 
do not be afraid to come weak, ashamed, or guilty. 
do not be afraid to come with nothing to offer me. 
your "yes" is all I ever wanted. 

i felt called to expand a bit on the message from the lord with some of my own meditations. it is incredible to think that the lord in his infinite majesty chose to create the loveliness of the universe, the expanse of the skies and the oceans, and then in his wisdom, he created man and gave him free will. he created us with the capacity to say yes or no to him. when we say no, it causes the lord intense suffering, because all that he has done has been out of greatest love for us. but when we say yes freely, it gives the greatest glory and joy to the lord. it is a moment of incredible victory over satan, every time we say yes to God. because sometimes, it's just hard. but we make that choice anyways.

this is where the message got really difficult for me to hear and process.

in my weakness, i sometimes get really angry with God.

i find myself surrounded with beautiful women who are enjoying their pregnancies, and in my weak moments, i find myself frustrated with the lord, that he chose me to lose mine. that he allowed me to suffer this loss.

i get angry with him. after all, i've been a good and faithful servant. i have loved him well. why then did i have to suffer, lord?

and then i remember Jesus carrying his cross to calvary. i remember how he embraced his cross of ultimate suffering. i echo the sentiment of st. teresa of avila: "lord, if this is how you treat your friends, it's no wonder you have so few."

and i realize why the lord chose me. it's because he trusted that i would continue to give him glory in the midst of this pain. he trusted me, that i would not allow satan to have victory and bring me to despair. he believed in me, that i would continue to testify to his great goodness and mercy.

sometimes, i wish he didn't trust me so much. but he was right.

every day, it is a choice i must make - to embrace this cross the lord has allowed me to carry. it is the choice to rejoice with my friends in their pregnancies. it is the choice to proclaim blessed be the name of the lord when everything in me feels the opposite. it is the choice to speak of the lord's tremendous love and mercy, when i feel so empty inside.

but i know it is his love and mercy that carries me. i trust that his strength sustains me, even though i feel nothing. he is the ground beneath my feet. he is the peace that steadies my heart. he is the rock i cling to in the storm. he is the quiet that comes after the tears.

he is the new dawn after the dark night. he is love.

and so, my lord, i come empty. i come weak. i come with nothing.

i say yes, because i know there's nothing else i can say that will bring peace.
i come, because there's nowhere else i can turn for grace and strength.

i don't understand. but i trust, i embrace, i believe.

fill my emptiness.

ever feel empty inside?

i was pondering what to write for my blog post today, and nothing leapt to mind, no words jumped to my fingers to be put down on my screen.

not a good feeling. i hate feeling empty, feeling i have nothing to accomplish, nothing to contribute.

the majority of my life has been spent accomplishing, achieving, all at the supposed expectation of "someone." i was talking to my husband jonathan the other day, and he asked me, "just who are you afraid of disappointing? who expects so much from you?" and all i could say was, "i don't know... they!" that ever-elusive they will be disappointed in me if i fail.

i've always felt someone expected something great of me. i always thought i would be known someday for achieving something extraordinary and new. i've based a great deal of my own self-worth and identity on the premise that i am what i do.

i don't know if you read the lyrics i posted a few days back, but i'm currently working on a song titled empty. and in writing it, i came to this realization, that what i do is not who i am. what is expected of me does not define me. my success is not my identity.

even writing the words feels like a lie sometimes. i have for so long desired to please, to impress, that i have a difficult time defining myself apart from my accomplishment: i am a singer. i am a pianist. i get straight a's. i...

but that's not who i am, and of late, i've craved being known. i want someone to understand me, the inner workings of my being, the reason why i am how i am. it goes being looking at my resume, and moves into a real understanding of me. i think this is where real love begins: it moves past the obvious, the facade of accomplishment, into the depth of a soul.

it requires an unveiling of my heart. it requires an honest revelation of my self, my weakness, my fear, my insecurity, but also my passion, my interest, my joie de vivre. just me, bare and open for revelation.

i tend to guard my heart, veil my emotions, and shield my thoughts. especially in going through my miscarriage, in trying to shield others from my pain, from having to endure the awkward consolations, i instead constructed a huge tower of strength and took up residence inside. i showed to the world a face that was strong, brave, doing well, trusting and moving on. i let a few people see the me that was hurting, that was broken, that struggled to understand why.

but i'm realizing more and more that behaving the way people expect of me is in fact keeping the real me locked up in that tower. if i don't show the real me vulnerably and humbly, no one can know me.

and anyways, it's okay to cry and be broken, so long as you embrace the reality that tomorrow the sun will shine again, and healing will come. it's okay to be vulnerable, so long as you don't dwell unhealthily on your weakness. it's okay not to be perfect, to realize that there is so much more to you that what you are capable of doing.

it's okay to just be. and sometimes, it's okay to be empty.

because the lord doesn't care so much about what we bring or about what we do. he wants us to come as we are, even if it's with empty hands. empty hands raised up high and spread wide to glorify his name.

and he'll take us further, deeper into holiness, into his perfection. he sees the real you and me anyways, so we may as well let him in to start refining and purifying.

and it's incredible to know that he thinks i'm special.

me.

in spite of my weakness. in spite of my imperfection. in spite of my failings.

yeah, me.

so whenever i feel empty inside, i remember that he emptied himself of life so that i could be in this moment. i remember that he rose from the dead so that i would never die. you and i are worth everything to the lord.

that makes us special, makes us lovable, makes us worthy.

nothing i can do could ever come close. all i can do, and all he expects, is that i embrace it, that i say yes.

yes, lord. fill my emptiness. make me whole. i love you.

photo by bora (http://bora.deviantart.com/art/reflection-37748096)

my heart is restless

The Lord uses all things to teach us. I know this to be true and have seen the evidence of it throughout my life, usually months to years after the fact. We need some distance, some perspective to see exactly how the Lord brought us through a trial, exactly what He was trying to show us.

I am blessed and humbled to say that the Lord has been so merciful to me in regards to healing from my miscarriage. There are so many things that could have gone wrong, that could have been worse. But instead, I emerged from the valley physically unscathed (or at least, so they tell me). I'm tremendously grateful to the Lord that my womb was preserved from further damage.

But my huge cross now is the waiting. Some women have a mountain of healing to climb before they can even fathom getting pregnant again. I have the endless trickle of time to face. I have this tremendous desire to feel life in me. I was so ready, so ecstatic to be with child the first time around, but the Lord in His eternal wisdom chose to bring that life home to Himself. Thanks be to the Lord from who all good things come.

Now that I have mourned, and equally rejoice in having a baby in heaven, I'm just so ready to know I have a little one inside me. I ask our baby in heaven to intercede at the feet of Jesus, to ask that this new pregnancy, whenever the Lord brings it, be healthy and safe. I'm just ready, Lord. Why not now?

And so I wrestle again with the utter lack of control. Just as I was unable to retain the life of my baby in heaven with all my strivings and worryings, I am unable to manufacture life in my womb just because I want it so much. I have to wait for God's time to be now.

But it is so hard to wait. It is so hard to believe that God's timing, His plan is the perfectly best one. I say to Him in prayer, "But Lord, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am healed from my hurt, I am ready to move on and get this next baby's life started."

And still, He asks me to wait. Whether it be this month, or next month, or next year, I have to believe that He will bring the newest member of our family when it truly is the right moment for us. I may think I know what that moment is. But I know that years from now, when I gather my children into my arms and whisper to them how very much I love them, I will look on this moment and realize that yes, God, You DID in fact have it all under control.

Worry accomplishes nothing. Peace achieves all.