Empty to Fill
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
It's been eons since my last post because it feels like the whole earth is shifting beneath me. I'm trying to find my feet. . .endure the aftershocks of John's death. The funeral weekend with friends was wrenching and healing, a time of mourning and praiseful worship. It still bothers me that life is so mixed that way. I'm 40, and still looking for the stone-less road even though I know (at least in my head) one doesn't exist.
Being at Church of the Resurrection (Margie and John's church and my family's home church before moving to Minnesota) was restorative. Through liturgy and music I was reminded that grief and praise can coexist. We cried and danced. Surrendered and celebrated.
Even now, I'm trying to embrace both. I need to mourn John, pray for and support my newly widowed friend and her two precious children, say goodbye to my present home AND celebrate the gift of a new home. As we prepare to move next door, I feel as if my current "nest" is simply being unfeathered. My garage is cluttered with cheaply priced "junk." And I feel restless about living in a new space that I can't quickly re-feather.
I'm just overwhelmed. I want to feel "at home" somewhere. In my grief, I long for comfy quilts and a room that is nurturing, warm, complete. Instead, my home is full of empty boxes.
Empty to fill.
Empty to fill.
Empty to fill.
The phrase runs through my mind as a source of comfort.
Jesus, the One acquainted with our sorrows, fill me with YOU. Help me to make my home in YOU. You're all I truly need.
Being at Church of the Resurrection (Margie and John's church and my family's home church before moving to Minnesota) was restorative. Through liturgy and music I was reminded that grief and praise can coexist. We cried and danced. Surrendered and celebrated.
Even now, I'm trying to embrace both. I need to mourn John, pray for and support my newly widowed friend and her two precious children, say goodbye to my present home AND celebrate the gift of a new home. As we prepare to move next door, I feel as if my current "nest" is simply being unfeathered. My garage is cluttered with cheaply priced "junk." And I feel restless about living in a new space that I can't quickly re-feather.
I'm just overwhelmed. I want to feel "at home" somewhere. In my grief, I long for comfy quilts and a room that is nurturing, warm, complete. Instead, my home is full of empty boxes.
Empty to fill.
Empty to fill.
Empty to fill.
The phrase runs through my mind as a source of comfort.
Jesus, the One acquainted with our sorrows, fill me with YOU. Help me to make my home in YOU. You're all I truly need.
Our seasons of fasting (emptying to be filled by God) at the Tabernacle have been high days indeed; never has Heaven's gate stood wider; never have our hearts been nearer the central Glory.
-C.H. Spurgeon
How'd the garage sale go this weekend?!