I fly home from Allume and spend Sunday evening adoring my beautiful family.
I frolic and cuddle and kiss and hug, hug, hug my littles. And in all our mom-ing and dad-ing, Stan and I stop repeatedly, mid-kitchen or mid-dining room, wherever our paths cross, and hold each other long.
I melt into him, and into our routines and our life together, because it’s this burning, joyful knowing in my gut — this is where I belong.
I loved Allume. Absolutely loved it. Most of the speakers resonated with me at least to some degree, and a few of the breakout sessions I attended made my insides vibrate because they wrapped yet-undiscovered (by me) language around God’s shaping of my deep places of late.
The words of those sweet speakers were enough to all at once press me into my seat under the weight of glory, and make me want to leap out of said seat, wave my arms in the air, and scream, THIS! This is who I am! This is God’s process inside me!
To find pieces of yourself in the vulnerably poured out passion and story of another is a gift sweeter and more impactful than words.
I wake up Monday morning after the first good night of sleep I’ve had in several days, and today is the first day this month I’ve not had my 31 Days post completed the day before.
So my alarm goes off a little earlier than necessary, and I prop up some pillows, grab my computer, and contemplate what I can offer to you out of this heart that is very much still in the best kind of upheaval.
It’s the kind of churning that comes when Jesus gives gift after gift, makes deposit after deposit into your deep places, and said deposits are concentrated within such a compact period of time that they haven’t yet settled. Haven’t begun to find names or language or remotely coherent thoughts.
So you simply sit — or you get up, take a shower, feed your kids and keep on cuddling and kissing and whispering how much you missed them — and you let all the holiness — because that’s what it is — continue to wrap itself around your soul, even though it’s all too profound and too rich for words.
You let it marinate. You don’t try to excavate. Not yet.
You live your everyday, not-so-mundane life, and you trust that when it’s time, the Father will dip into your soul, draw to the surface this or that deposit that’s been swirling almost formless in your depths, and begin to reveal to you its shape. Its purpose. The language for it.
And it will shake you and rearrange your insides all over again as it comes up and out and finds its voice.
But for now, you sit. Rest in Him. Hug your people. And lean into the knowledge that He who began this good, good work is absolutely, fiercely, tenderly committed to its completion.
And His process of unveiling the shape of your soul and all you were created for? It’s utterly trustworthy.
This post is part of my 31 Days series, Rooted: 31 Days of Authenticity (from my life in limbo). You can find the entire series here.
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