Taking a Deep Breath

The thoughts keep swirling today, bubbling up, wanting to be expressed, but are in no coherent order; and yet I feel I need to let them tumble out for them to sort themselves out. I think that’s one aspect of the “digging” I’m supposed to be doing.

Speaking of digging, I think I’ve been doing some, finally. Not literally, of course, but… the nagging distractions aren’t getting to me as much lately. I feel a bit more focused—Oh…I remember why: I start work again on Thursday.

Some background: This summer has been very disappointing for me. When the year was new and fresh I felt such excitement—I knew that God was going to do something! Maybe this desert would end and I’d get to see new horizons again! And so, all through the months I kept plodding forward, hoping for some new scenery when I had a couple of weeks to get away from work and responsibilities during summer break. I kept my eyes peeled for some new opportunity, but nothing came except an extra job (which was good, but was the same local scenery): playing piano for a musical was a big time commitment and took all of June and half of July. “That leaves two weeks for travelling! –Oh wait, make that one week…I have to do this other thing over here…” And so the summer slowly stretched to a close and I felt a bleak, gray, stifling dreariness begin to close in on all sides. The one trip I had thought was sure, that was later in the year, had fallen through and was now scratched out on my calendar. “Nothing is left to hope for.”  And now I realize that I have been living in such a way that each new wave of life-responsibility sweeps over my head and leaves me reeling and gasping. I’m all out of rhythm; I can’t stay on top of things, I feel like I can never catch up and live rather than survive, and it’s the thought of returning to that struggle that now chills my being. “I can’t go on like this—I can’t go through another year with things the way they are.” A tinge of desperation begins to grow.

And so the final full free week of the summer came. My sisters and I finally had something of a holiday: We went to visit our married sister and brother-in-law. It was there that we finished watching a story (some of you might guess what it is!), a story from which I certainly had not expected any greatness. It was long, delightfully funny, and yet deep and full of wisdom. As I came home from our holiday, this story remained with me, as a glimmer of light that grew into a beacon. It flashed into the thick grey mist that shrouds my future and inspired my imagination with hope. I’m not alone in my frustrating struggle to learn, to stay focused, to put my hand to the task before me. The picture of the characters taking a deep breath and letting it out, then proceeding to do a hard thing, inspires me to do the same. Desperation is hardening the edges of my lazy habits and distracted thoughts into firm resolve: “Things can’t go on this way. I’ve got to change…I’ve got to.”

A new thought comes: “What is my name?”  I think back to my first post here, to when I introduced myself as “procrastinating, frustrated, scatter-brained maiden who doesn’t act like she’s the daughter of Someone important.” This plodding through the desert…it hasn’t been for naught. I had to walk through it to arrive at this point. The words of a quote come to mind: “Anything that dulls the pain that ought to bring me to God is an idol.” (James McDonald) Was I looking for the glimpses of new horizons this summer in hopes that it would dull the pain of the daily grind? I think I was. Now I am glad my Lord kept the doors all shut—kept me plodding in the wilderness, for now I am desperate for Him to fix me. I am now desperate enough to take the shovel in my hand and throw my weight onto it and into the ground; desperate for the Water that will sustain me. Can I succeed without failing yet again? Probably not. I am still in the desert, after all: No doubt the ground will be like hard-pan. But, this is my training ground.

What is my name? Who am I? I am Daughter of the Thane; I will become Diligent Warrior Maiden.

I turn and regard the dismal grey of the next few months, but the beacon light of hope now shoots into it. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I can do this.” And I stand ready to face it, no more cringing, and the passing hours bring it closer and closer.