Broken and Wounded...

 Wednesday is the day I typically do a writing post.

Not that I don't write on the other days, but the whole purpose of Wednesday's post is to write.

It's not like Monday when my main blogging purpose is to post my weekly gratitude list.

It's not like Tuesdays and Thursdays when I post something home related,

like a decor project or a recipe.

And it's not like Fridays when I post a photo with a scripture and a few words of encouragement before the weekend.

 Wednesdays are all about the writing.

There are usually a myriad of possible topics floating around in my mind.

On any given Wednesday,  rather like a mental vending machine, I will make my selection from several options, and eventually out comes a blog post.

However, today it seemed as though the vending machine was out of order.

Not just out of order, but covered with a sheet of black plastic secured with duct tape that obscured even a glimpse of the choice blog post ideas that my mental vending machine normally contains.

So, I prayed and asked God if there was something He wanted me to write about.

I didn't seem to hear a response.

I did ponder the possibility that God wanted me to just be quiet today,

that He wanted to remind me that the world would go on spinning without hearing from Elizabeth.

I even wondered if He might be thinking, "why don't you just shut up for a change".

But then, I thought, God knows that we don't say shut up in this family.

We say "hush up!" with great emphasis.

So, instead of writing I filled up my day with canning some apple butter,

a few miscellaneous church related tasks,

a few typical household chores,

a run  

and a bit of preparation for a class called Pure Heart that I was speaking at tonight.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, I went outside and cut a few pieces of this dried plant that is growing in between the neighbor's flower bed and ours and put it in my jar vase.

 (I later found out it is called a money plant.)

It sure is no bouquet of roses, but something about it seems rustic and artful at the same time,

and being dried, it seems a bit autumnal as well.

There have been occasions where I've doubted my own home decor tastes.

When it comes to decorating, I definitely have cottage and/or farmhouse leanings.

As I said, when I see someone with more refined tastes than me, I can, at times, doubt myself.

And yet, show me something well loved, an earthenware mixing bowl for instance, and I see beauty in it.

And now, my friends, if you've kept with me thus far, you're finally to the part of this post that I truly do feel is the thing God told me to write.

But first, unknown to me, I had to go speak at that Pure Heart class before I knew what it was.

Years ago, we were invited to a fourth of July barbecue with people from a friend's church.

The only people we knew at this barbecue was the pastor and his family.

Our friend was excited because their church had had a growth spurt of well-established families, school teachers, professionals, etc.

As the day wore on, I was enjoying getting to know people, but there was one person I felt instantly drawn toward.

She wore overalls, she loved to sing and she had a broken, busted up life.

The fact that she was the person I felt most drawn toward really bothered me,

to the point that once I was back home I asked a friend who does a lot of counseling if this indicated that something was wrong with me!

So, on tonight's video for the Pure Heart class the speaker read these words from Isaiah 66:1-2,

 Thus says the Lord: Heaven is My throne, and the earth is My footstool. What kind of house would you build for Me? And what kind can be My resting-place? For all these things My hand has made, and so all these things have come into being [by and for Me], says the Lord. But this is the man to whom I will look and have regard: he who is humble and of a broken or wounded spirit, and who trembles at My word and reveres My commands.

Then during the class as I spoke and afterwards as I prayed and cried with grown men and women over their brokenness that began with childhood wounds, I felt the sense that, in that moment, I was in the sweet spot of God's will.

Yet, similarly to doubting my home decor tastes, when I go to a church or some other Christian event or conference where all the people are "pretty",  where everyone seems to have it all together,

  I can begin to doubt myself.

But, God has called me to help people with broken and wounded spirits and I'm ok with that.

God's ok with that, too.

still following,