The other day I was met with disappointment that weighed my spirits, literally, to the ground. After about twenty-four hours of moping around the house, mourning the loss of a certain hope, I fell to my knees on this spot–the wicker chair cushion I store indoors during winter months. It hides in my living room behind a love seat, under my special Peruvian wool throw:
There I let loose a torrential rain of self-pity. God didn’t mind, and was kind enough to warm me with the sun’s rays pouring in through the East window. I pray in that direction for no special reason, and I pray with bootay in the air, like a Muslim, simply because if I don’t, I will limp away on prickly, nonexistent legs when finished.
Even if that happens, I always walk away with a lighter heart.
The next day I found myself back in my “prayer closet” for a different reason. I had been reading the Song of Solomon and was overcome once again with the realization that even though God and I have been together for quite some time now (about 35 years), His love for me hasn’t grown cold.
Sometimes I let myself believe, deep down, that He reserves His amazing forbearance and strongest affections for passionate and zealous new converts–“newlyweds.” But with me–and my stubborn hang-ups and tenacious habits–He certainly gets tired, like a bored marriage partner.
But Dave is not like that. After seventeen years of marriage, his love for me has only grown.
Could it be that God loves me thus? That He is unmoved by my “down days?” That I will always be close to His heart, and no desert wandering or dismal failure of mine will ever change that? That I am no disappointment to Him, despite days of apathy and seasons of complacency? That He is, in fact, not turned away from me with folded arms? That I can instantly step back into that flow of grace, as if I’d been there all along?
Once again, a rush of tears.
Where do you pray? And do you raise your–you know.
"Oh my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.” –SS. 2:14