Be Still My Heart

It’s 4am and my eyes are wide again. Part of me feels I should be appreciating sleep more in these 3am waking that are happening more and more frequently so that they're almost becoming a new way of life for me. And part of me longs for this hour, the early mornings when the “baby” has just been walked back to his own bed again and the house is finally truly still. Because it’s usually in this stillness, this quiet that I gain perspective and can taste- You are still here. I can feel the arms of my maker as I sit sipping my hot tea with honey, the feeling of breaking in crisp pages in a book that is brand new, yet so familiar and  comforting as they are the same life-giving words my heart has poured over for decades before. And yet, in this stillness, in this quiet I am waking often to find that even now in this hour it’s hard to hear Him, hard to feel Him. Yet I know He’s here. And I realize that the chaos this week is internal as my head spins between seeing glimpses of His plan and finding the stillness that lies in between that and my present reality as my own plans try to push their way into the gaps. Quiet my heart Lord. This heart that longs to see more tangible evidence of your Kingdom works. This womb within my soul that wants with every fiber of my being to train more young hearts to know you. This mind that knows I thrive on a challenge and struggle with stillness. And yet you say to wait. To wait on you. To embrace the rest. Rest that is found in you alone. Drink of my living water, You whisper. I’m thriving on your daily bread alone. It’s these wee hours when my soul is nourished, prepared and encouraged to work from a place of rest. I’m filled up with you Lord, thank you for meeting me here. Aba knows my longing. How I would do anything to walk the unpaved streets and scoop His children into my arms. How every day my boots of readiness are laced, ready to bring any child from the roughest parts of a ghetto which shadows fall in my own back yard. To deliver them into this dwelling He’s blessed me with, just to give them a warm bowl to nourish more than their bellies. Lord, I’m willing. And he says wait. My heart cries. And wait I have. Seven months that have seemed like an eternity wondering why the fertile soil of my physical womb has not begun to produce any new life. Unexpectedly after two surprises. Yet in that my heart is still. I can trust Him in that, knowing, believing, contentedly that He has a timing, a reason, a plan. Seeing how good and gracious He was that I was to conceive such blessings without effort.  And my mind goes straight to the A-word that my heart longs for yet my husband says we are not quite ready for- financially. I want to shout at Him to just trust; this wait is more heart-wrenching than the other, because I know their clocks are ticking. But I know that God has created this union with a perfect balance and I praise Him as I watch the work He does even in my husband’s heart and whisper a humbled “thank you” as I admit where the wisdom comes from.  I know their souls need fed. I see them daily as they come and go in an environment that seems so care-free from the outside and chaotic to the workmen within. They bring their joys and their sorrows, their anger and all the baggage their young hearts are can carry. And He strategically places them in my life for those few brief minutes every week and blesses me beyond what I can comprehend. You leave me in Awe Lord of your works. There is no fatherless to you. The way he pulls and aligns hearts and produces apples of gold for me to offer. This is my mission for now. How I long to feed them more. Yet He says wait. Embrace the rest. And my mind is awhirl with what may come, with what may be in store just around the corner as I am beginning to see a vision from half a decade of waiting on another corner of His plan being intricately woven together with every detail in every way He is calling us. Preparing us. Equipping us for this new ministry. Revealing just enough that I may stay encouraged. My heart about leaps out of my chest as I read the last name of a new friend: “Titus” and find comfort in knowing His plan is coming together. Despite my efforts or striving. And I am somehow blessed with this opportunity to just watch it unfold as I rest and wait behind the scenes. It’s indescribable, having been a child whose heart longed for a daddy while living in a home with a father figure. To fully trust. And I know this wait is preparing me though I believe I’m already willing. I know He is preparing my heart and not giving me more than I can bare. His yoke is easy and His burden is lite. To live three decades knowing of His goodness and not believing it was for me as a daughter in His estate, but only seeing myself as a maidservant. Now suddenly called into His living quarters to put on this lavish robe of mercy and sit and wait with Him holding my hand. My heart gushes I can hardly handle how deep and how wide His love is. Be still my heart, the striving is over. My Daddy has called me home. This comfort of His Spirit and the shadow of His wings is the only true home I’ve ever found in a world made of perishing tents. I long to share it with the fatherless. Yet I wait on the Lord. I get to watch Him at work, a realm I was forbidden from as a young *girl* in my father’s house, now invited to enter. I get to marvel at His creation while He sings over me songs of a crazy love that I’ll never comprehend. Like wet clay these calloused hands I’ve created are being nurtured and massaged tenderly, re-formed to be established for His kingdom.  An apprentice at His side who’s heaviest burden is to learn of His peace and to watch Him create His masterpiece in a world all around me.