Friday, August 8, 2014

alabaster jar

it's a jar i've always kept with me
i've held it close
i've guarded it
i've placed my worthiest treasures in it
i've pretend it's value immeasurable

the more i cling to it, the less i can cling to His feet though

in these days, my spirit has been crushed, i've wept, crippled on my knees for the sweet lives, stolen, in violent manners.  they were children. and now they are children worshipping in His presence.

my "alabaster jar" seems just ridiculous now. what filled mine was not a sweet fragrance or prized oils. doubt and fear is neither sweet smelling nor valuable.

i can't focus on "me" right now. i mustn't deter slobbering, exhausting, knee prints in the carpet prayers for those whom at the moment are passing from our presence to His.

relinquishing the control: fear of provision for our adoption, fundraising, the focus on "me". it's all so silly in comparison to the pain no words can even touch in description families and children are facing right now in a distant land.

i'm going deep in to my prayer closet. the fundraiser auction that ends this saturday will be the last, for a while. He loves these innocent children and their families who exiled themselves just to survive to mountaintops just to await uncertain starvation, and He loves our daughter who is waiting on us to bring her home. He is preparing a home for the children whose lives are lost, and He is preparing our home for our daughter. i can strive and strive to bring her home, but ultimately, it's going to be Him doing it. it takes too much of my focus, which turns into insecurity, which turns into doubt.  when in reality, His love for me, you, my lucy-girl, your child, and these children waiting (un)certain death on mountain tops is great enough to continue on without my fervent attempts.

it's too much to hear.

i will emerge with bruised knees, tear-stained cheeks, and a throat sore from impassioned plea filled screams, and my lucy-girl will still be coming home; but at least i would have devoted the same passion to persecuted children and families exiled for survival.

No comments:

Post a Comment