Archive for November, 2014

Living the Bipolar Life

Two words- Tightrope Walking.

Tightrope walking about 100ft in the air (high enough to be scary and deadly, but not so high that you can’t see what is below you). Two dangerous areas underneath. To one side there is a pool of molten rock, beautiful but deadly. To the other a pit of snakes, some poisonous some not, all feeling threatened and ready to strike. The dangers meet in the middle directly beneath the thin cord you are struggling to balance on. A breeze comes. A welcome relief to some hikers watching the lava from a safe distance, but potential death for you as it sets the cord to swaying. Now any movement at all and the swaying is intensified. You hold your breath, hoping that the cord will settle down before the sneeze that is building in response to the pollens blown in comes to fruition. You might be able to compensate for the sneeze when it comes if you know exactly where the cord is and what it is doing beforehand. With it already in motion, though, it’s too hard to predict.

This is what living the bipolar life feels like.

Promises Whispered

So this year’s theme at church is “Launch Out”. I first got the inkling of just what God was pulling me towards in terms of launching out several months ago, but it just seemed so unreal, so unlikely. Turns out… not so much. The coincidences (both musical and otherwise) speak for themselves, or rather for God. I never thought I’d be led back around to considering, let alone deciding on, divorce by God of all people. By my ‘worldly’ friends, sure. By my ‘unspiritual’ family, maybe. But by Jesus Himself? WHAT?! And yet that is exactly what happened. It wasn’t some booming, thundering voice from the sky, no. It was a still, small voice that said “just open your mind and heart to the idea that maybe the act of divorce might not not frowned upon by God in certain situations”. It started small, it did, and to be sure it came through His chosen vessel. I had my eyes (and my mind!) clenched so tightly shut it hurt. Hurt to keep them closed, but hurt to open them, too. Like when you’ve been squeezing your eyes shut to keep out the light that was suddenly turned on in the midst of the thick dark. It was painful, so very painful, to keep forcibly shutting that light out, but just opening my eyes wide open all at once hurt, too. I’d pop them open, be blinded, and go back to squinting….but that light…even though it was bright and seemed painful at first glance seemed to offer something more. Warmth for a shivering soul for a start. Light to see things clearly, instead of having to plod about in uncertainty. And hope. For the first time in over 15yr I really felt the golden fingers of hope coming through. It reminded me of the poem I wrote in high school with the same title as this post…

Golden Fingers reaching through the clear pane,
Silently touching the sleeping form.
Lingering for a moment to whisper promises of a new beginning;
Slowly they pass — leaving behind shadowy fingerprints.

I’m older now, though, and I like to think a little wiser. Without question I’m more knowledgeable, especially in regards to Truth. Whereas at 17yo I let those Fingers float right on by…whether because of fear or stubbornness to follow along a prescribed or expected path or some other reason that I don’t even remember now…at almost 36yo I refuse to let them pass me by. I don’t want shadowy fingerprints. I want the Fingers that created them. I don’t want to resist the pulling anymore. I don’t want, scratch that, I WON’T lie still and watch them drift away. I refuse. I’m waking up, launching out, and hanging on to those promises. To not do so is to not breathe. My kids deserve so much better than what they’ve had. Not because they’re so great, but because they are children of God. They, as well as myself, were precious enough to Jesus that He willingly held out His hands and even thanked the Father for the opportunity to have nails driven through them, to take on all of our sins and pay for them so that we could be made whole and be free. Jesus gave up everything to save us from a life of pain, misery, defeat, and rejection. There’s been a myriad of reasons, excuses even, why I haven’t allowed myself to live that life, but I’m choosing it now. I’m launching out of the bed of self-punishment-through-others and trying-to-save-others-at-the-expense-of-myself and breaking through the clear pane to go live in the Sonshine…not just a quiet, sedate, ordinary life, either.  No. I’ve been trying to contain myself inside of propriety and calmness and convention for too long. I’m tired of trying to fit into a mold that I was never designed to fit in. I want to be comfortable in my own skin finally. I’m not there yet, not by a long shot, but I WANT to get there…and I will. As long as I do all things decently and in order, it will come. That’s decently and in order according to GOD, not man (including myself!), though. Sometimes there is a big difference.

I’ve written about storms and rainbows before. Not all storms are bad. Some rainstorms are VERY necessary. Sometimes our lives are suffering from drought and we desperately need rain to quench our thirst and heal our parched hearts. Sometimes we even recognize it and pray for something to revive us, to heal us, to satisfy us. Why do we act so surprised, then, when it starts raining? Sometimes we think the rain is nothing but cold, but what if it’s not? What if we’re missing a piece of it and it’s not a ‘c’, but a ‘g’. What if the rain is nothing but gold. Rain is cleansing. It washes away the dust and the heat. Sure, absolutely in the midst of the storm it can be dark and scary and threatening…but on the other side? What awaits us? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… the longer, more frightening, more intense the storm the sweeter, more beautiful, and more precious the rainbow. Rainbows are symbols of promise…promises whispered. And now the circle of coincidentiality is complete. Thank you, Lord. I love you too! =)


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