but, waking up at five thirty in the morning is a hassle (excuse), and in my mind a nightmare. a potential waste of time, waking before the sun has yet to greet us. a world around me has so little to offer me but sleep that early in the morning. all because i have been habitually making acquaintances with one a.m. and her little sister one thirty. "you won't regret it", my mother suggestively said, persuaded i went. this morning in greyness.
a severe warmth and comfort welcomed me, quiet voices of women and the smell of a coffee fortune. though i forewent, according to the mumbles of an already acidic stomach. a low fire buring, the stroke of eight a.m. hidden tears with knowledge and awareness tumbling, low beneath my bowed head. for fear of spilling out a tremendous wave of emotion. i was there to support, i thought proudly. oh how i terribly mislead myself, too often to count.
how do i begin, i'd rather leave it all alone, and forget.
i must resist the temptation, i must tell, bare witness to the work of the holy spirit through one artist's words, her journal, her fear, her humility and not all of that but christ jesus alone. my god. to believe. some might say moments like mine, this morning are magical. magic is not real, the act of magic is performance, and what i experienced was real. no authority stands to derive some over simplified summary of our being there. no judgement, no throne to which one is chosen to sit, pontificate and ressurect our conscience mind. my heart gave out. i knew, called out of my weakness i should be there. vunerable, defenseless i had to be there, to be lifted. words flowed. in the midst of great darkness there is light and gratitude. in the midst of brokeness there is peace and validation. she an artist, like me, like her, we find solitude to be a comfort. branching out is without a doubt the most difficult aspect of my life. it isn't just about branching out, it is about the act of opening all kinds of doors, submission, "talking about my art", my words, her words.
all i want in my life is more time, more time, more time. please. i need an almighty god to give me just a little tiny bit more time to make art. art and making art is one of my number one loves. a little bit more time to be a better daughter, a better friend, a wife, a mother, a sister. look he has already given. i am entirely tirelessly grateful for my mother, for my father, for "big e", m.c., aaron & laurie, smoore and emoore, for the three littlest boys:caleb,liam, and sam (who we love and will welcome when they get here). grateful beyond words for katie, jen, matt, andrea, hannah (her words on looking up), josiah, coworkers: amp, linda, gh, and carolyn in the city.
***i will never know enough, my words will always fall short of the exact thought or express emotion i had. my intellect fails me when faced with college graduates, my faith falters before the fevered. my spirit shrinks between insecurity and self doubt and "if i were all that dark inside there would actually be no place for christ". meditation: to free ones mind of thought and focus on the thought. i shall not. god has given me my breath and i will focus on my life. funny how i am worse than i think and it is because of jesus, and yes because of my deep need to know him that i accept him in. everyday. we all need validation, a balance (the breath of life) between what we think of ourselves and what others we know think of us. jesus must be my everything.
how can i resolve? there is no resolve, but rest is waiting for me in jesus. resolve is to remove myself from the discussion or battle. how many come to the perfect point where all is well, where we feel loved, needed, wanted, and validated one hundred percent of the time. is there a reason to give up in the face of late nights? in the face of financial stress, artistic block walls, relationship requirements:expectations? believers often throw up their hands, surrender, resolve, make laws they think they can keep inorder to win the losing battle. inspite of myself i will be thankful.
when i left at ten til nine i cried with my mother by our cars in the grey coldness. cried out at the beauty, to the wordless moments to warm us. melt our hearts and minds. a bend in the road, there is no more waiting, a focus, a reverse of thought and reminder of god's severe mercies, grace and love.