Friday, May 2, 2014

Beauty Time

(Photo by Tara Gourley)
The rain drips gently, steadily, and I have time.
Time to just be.
I've found that it's what you do in these spare hours that defines who you are.
When you're longing for a little peace, what do you do?
Some days, I just browse Pinterest. It's mind numbing, yet you feel almost useful, because who knows? That recipe you just pinned could very well change your life.
Most of the time, I crave something more. I often stop that craving with a heavy dose of laziness, but I know it was there.
Today, I use the moment to think on truth; to write it out in black and white, so I won't forget it ... and maybe you won't either. I'm a day ahead of schedule, and that's satisfying.
I stop that word before it rolls off my tongue. Savor it.
Satisfying.
The secret of life, or at least one of the big ones, is that only Christ can truly satisfy.
Only His love will leave your cup running over.
Only His truth will be firm enough to stand on.
Only He will fill that yearning empty in your heart.
There's no pew beneath me, so I preach it to myself: only Him. Always only Him.
And in these spare hours, I use what He's given me. I think on His name. I trust in His goodness. But not every time, don't get me wrong. I preach to myself in the voice of who I want to be, not who I am. Because how else can I learn?
I try to make beauty from what I have ... stitching fabrics together, writing poems, sketching sweet madness ... because handmade beauty is something precious and irreplaceable.
I try to see the beauty in what is. I count gifts from heaven. I watch the rain pour down. I note the stunning dimple on my sister's cheek.
I make music. Belt out tunes at the top of my lungs. Blare my favorite songs in my headphones. Write my own, when I can.
I aim to bless others. I use the things that I have made beauty from or found beauty in, and I pass them on.
I pray the feeble prayers of a person who still can't figure out why God loves her. Try to wrap your head around it, I dare ya. It's mind-boggling.
I whisper out half-memorized Scriptures, willing them to become the inhale and exhale of my life, because who doesn't need that kind of truth every second?
I write. I read. I am a word-lover. A wordaholic, if you will.
I read classic literature, breathtaking poetry, lovely Christian novels, non-fiction books that blow my mind, blog posts, Pinterest posts, etc.
I write letters, songs, poems, posts, stories, nonsense, texts, emails, and I don't dare shove them in a drawer and forget.
I dream about plants.
I make baked goods.
I snack an awful lot.
Sometimes, I cave in to the reality that we serve a God who offers peace and rest, and I sleep. It takes more bravery than one would think. I have to admit to myself that the world will spin on without me. I have to remember that my God is bigger than nightmares, and that His love casts out my fear. I have to be willing to cry for a while, if that's what it takes.
I pretend to be so brave, holding back tears like a big kid. But there is beauty and strength in the vulnerability it takes to let those tears flow. They say that "big girls don't cry," so maybe it's time I stopped being a big girl. Or maybe I need to start a trend among us Bigs. A group of honest people who don't judge pain and emotion? Sign me up.
So it comes down to this: a dare to find beauty in the here and now. In a blank piece of paper, in an unappreciated object, in the mirror ... God makes beautiful things. It's time we saw and experienced them for what they are.