Yesterday I said "all of a sudden, I found myself in the desert". It's not that the trip into the desert was sudden, it was more the actual realization that I had grit in my teeth and was parched, that was kind of overnight. Looking back, I see that things had been piling up, one by one. That's always the way, isn't it? Like the Casting Crowns song says:
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade
I was burning the candle at both ends, and letting things fall through the cracks. Before I knew it, I was so busy dealing with the squeakiest wheels, I had no time to slow down and hear the still small voice calling me. The more I didn't pray, the more I didn't want to pray.
By the weekend before I left on vacation I was physically spent, emotionally raw and spiritually empty. Sunday I went to church, but I didn't want to go in and sit down. I saw a friend in the lobby and I began to share with her that I had an overwhelming sadness I couldn't explain and that the big picture looked so insurmountable that I didn't even know where or how to take my next step. She asked if I'd been in to the service yet, and I confessed I really wasn't sure I wanted to go. "You need to hear it" she said..."he's talking to you right where you are." I begrudgingly slipped into a seat in the balcony .
That Sunday was the 10th anniversary of 9/11. The sermon was out of Habakkuk, and the message was about moving from despair to praise. I began to weep. I wasn't ready to praise. I walked out and tried to regroup. Eventually, I walked back into the sanctuary downstairs, not taking a seat, but standing where no one could see my red eyes. On the screen flashed verses from Psalm 42. Several times I read the words "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?" That's when the tear ducts really opened up. Like the psalmist, I didn't know why, but I knew my soul was downcast. I couldn't stand anymore. I turned on my heel and left.
That night, before I packed to leave for the shore, I called a friend. I shared some of what I was feeling. She gave me an assignment. "You're going for 3 days, right?" I confirmed. "Okay...each day, I want you to read a chapter out of Habakkuk - there are only 3!" She gave me some other instructions, and said she would be praying for me.
I hung up and set about the task of packing my bags, grateful to be going far enough away that I didn't have to deal with anyone I knew for a few days.
Tomorrow, the praying begins...
Thank you for this post, and I'm so thankful for your blog. I'm looking forward to the rest of your journey, and I am praying you have a restful three days.
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