Some days…I find myself chasing my tail. Some days…I get dizzy. Some days…I forget to smile. Some days… the spinning has become a dark habit that I fall into. Some days…like today…I look at myself and realize that my dancing isn’t really dancing at all, but has been demoted to drudgery.
That is when I sigh. That is when a complaint slips between my lips. That is when I can’t hear the music. That is when my feet are heavy and simple tasks push me over.
I have never cared for naps. I have never liked to slow down. I set out on a race to win and no amount of distraction will pull me from the course. I often look upon others and cannot fathom the slow pace of their actions or the lack of ambition in their choices. Again…I realize I am judging and uttering complaints.
This sour drink I drink in these times only serves to drunken me with the weight of despair. It fills me up only to drag me down, as if I were walking into the sea wearing an overcoat.
Exhaustion overtakes me and I refuse to look at my part in this stumbling.
A sweet encouragement, despite its misplaced effort pointing out my age, actually draws me to a stopping point. Not a nap, as I probably would need without that third cup of tea; not a solace, reading a book; no, it’s my keyboard summoning me to pour out the tangled mass of emotion and overly labored thinking and certainly overtired yard-working muscles.
You see, this malady that consumes me, the ‘never being able to slow down and stop’ disease, allows for the writing. It is ‘doing’ something. It is forward motion.
“Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it.” (Psalms 127:1-2) crosses my mind in this moment.
Is this effort to construct guided by God’s Spirit, or is this just more ‘Betsy on a race track’?
Being corralled and bridled and taught and trained involves sweet discipline. It requires a waiting and willing heart. It has asked me to be still and allow God to move and shape and shake me. I am impatient at best. I stop and wait…for ten seconds…and then I am off again.
How beautiful is our Lord that He allows me to run wildly, tossing my head about and choosing my own paths throughout the day.
I know He wants me to write these things and still I wrestle with the words. My impetuous running about and spinning leaves me tired and spent with no sentences, no thoughts, no song to sing.
He holds me to His heart so that the beat gets louder in my ears. The physical aches and pains that would slow a normal person down do not have that effect on me. I simply jump up and try to outrun them. Again He draws me back to His arms, or shows me a little nugget along the trail.
Hahaha! It isn’t until I am stopped dead in my tracks that my spirit and mind engage together. Why must I always wait until I have come to that point to be able to listen to what God is saying, or to see where He is leading?
It is a silly repetitive conundrum. It is more than roller coaster-ish. It is a spinning top that flings itself around and around in all sorts of directions, hitting table legs and feet and flying off to be lost somewhere under a dresser.
He draws us to Himself so that His creative energy can flow through us to touch the world around us. He speaks to us to speak to the broken hearts. He beckons us and shows us a place that needs His love. He allows a song to flow off our tongue to gentle a sad child or to bring a smile to a widow’s face.
Oh Father, thank You for the reminder!
My Jesus! The spinning that has made me dizzy only detracts from the dance that You have given me. Show me how to keep my eyes fixed on You. Show me how to walk with eyes uplifted.
The waves around my feet, the dust that covers my day, the list that is never done..these are a part of the dance and I need to know how to keep gracefully placing my feet for Your glory!