Call Her Blessed

Oh Lord, I'm trying.

I'm beginning to wonder if this

is bigger than any of my effort.

Can I still praise you?

Can I still praise you when I don't feel it?

Do my praises still bless you if I

raise my hands out of sheer will and choice

and not from my heart?

Each day, I accept the benefits of this air I breathe.

I gladly enjoy this heart that beats without

any effort from me.

Each day, I enjoy the soft warm cheeks

of the babies you planted deep within my body,

my heart.

Each day, I am sheltered and loved and cherished

by this man.

This hard working and honest man.

This man with broad shoulders

kind eyes

gentle and strong hands.

This love. It seems impossible.

It's a gift from you, and I take it willingly.

My family is healthy

safe

happy

warm.

You are not a quiet observer.

You act.

You move.

You know each hair on my head,

the number of my breaths.

You speak.

You've touched my heart countless times.

Or am I deluded?

You save.

"At the cross, you beckon me.

Draw me gently to my knees."

Indeed.

I gratefully accept what you did on that cross.

It suits me.

It satisfies me.

It "works" for me.

Oh, this heart of mine...so selfish and ugly!

And yet, all I can seem to see and feel is that little girl.

You know her, Lord.

Still such a baby.

Sparking eyes.

Gurgling giggle.

Chubby fingers.

Gone.

With no warning or preparation.

Warning or preparation would have been cruel, I suppose.

Sleeping snug in her bed under a special blanket.

Family bustling about the house just past her

bedroom door.

And suddenly.

Gone.

Just

Gone.

I thought I knew.

I felt you near my heart.

I heard your voice.

And yet...

Who ARE you?

Bigger than a tidy explanation, yes.

Near those who are suffering.

Willing and able to bring good from bad.

Crying with those who sob for their little ones lost.

Your ways are not my ways.

You are beyond my understanding.

You are...simply I AM.

I am but a withering blade of grass in the summer sun.

It is not my place to understand.

So many cliche explanations and platitudes,

they just don't satisfy my soul.

I thought I knew you.

I felt safe in the arms of my Jesus.

I felt loved in the arms of my Jesus.

I felt protected.

Precious.

But now I can't keep my thoughts away from one question

Who are you?

Am I safe?

Am I loved?

Am I protected?

Am I precious?

Who are you?

I'm afraid

angry

confused.

How can I go on if I don't know who you are?

How can I praise a God who is mighty enough to

make the mountains,

yet will not protect a baby girl so loved?

Please, Lord.

Reveal yourself.

Show me the smallest glimpse of your love for me.

You know my heart even better than I do.

Whatever is missing, Lord.

You know what it is.

Whatever my heart or soul doesn't have of you

Please, Lord.

Give it to me.

Whatever my soul needs to heft these sad hands out of love,

fill me with it.

For now I'll raise my hands to the one I thought I knew.

But am I raising my hands to a lie?

Give me truth, oh God.

For now I'll raise my hands to the one who blesses.

Please ignore my fear.

Better yet, heal it.

I'm afraid, Lord.

I'm afraid that you, the one who blesses, will also take away.

I'm not strong enough.

For now I'll raise my hands with my mind.

A choice.

Move me, Lord.

Move in my soul so that my raised hands become

a symbol of the love and peace and joy overflowing in me.

For now, I'll raise my hands.

Please Lord, lift my heart.