I can feel my ears perk up at the onset of seemingly mindless conversations.
We were five sitting on a park bench, childless for an evening. Five women in love with their Jesus and I got the privilege of an evening in friendship with them. The two on the left were lost in their own conversation, but the three on the right, myself in the middle, were getting lost in a randomness of thoughts falling, each one of us popping in and out of the conversation.
We talked of the Dirty Girls Mudder (A girl version of Tough Mudder) coming up in September, we talked of reading scripture in front of church. We talked of brave things that my mouth seems to want to declare that I will never do, but my heart kind of invigorates at the thought of it.
As we throw thoughts out there I hear myself say it, "Sometimes I think I've used my kids as an excuse over the past six years, to stay home, to mask my fear of being brave and call it "just a season."
In the moment I think nothing of it, just continue on in words.
That night I lie there in my bed, wide-eyed, and replaying my own words that I didn't even know were living somewhere inside this skin. My Joey's rhythmically snoring an arms length away and I'm tempted to wake him, to have someone tangible to process with, but I know that he's the type that once asleep, won't remember anything of importance in the morning.
So it's just me and HIM, and we chat back and forth about bravery and seasons.
I don't really know what it is that I'm afraid of...
Granted, I loathe the idea of being covered in mud and start panic-breath in confined spaces, and can't run more than a half mile without feeling like I might just fall over.
Granted I get all flush when I stand up in front of a large group of people and have to actually open my mouth.
But all the same.
Have I not given my all to You Lord, even my fears, knowing that you are trustworthy in all things? (Psalm 46, Jeremiah 39, Philippians 1, 1 Peter 3, 1 John 4, )
If you ask something of me will you not be right there next to me, opening my mouth with the words that You would have me speak? Calming all the muscles in this skin as I walk forward in complete surrender?
At first glance all I can see is what I'm afraid of. But as I take small steps towards those very things that want to keep me paralyzed, I lose sight of myself and catch a full view of Your Glory.
As our days go by, I would love nothing more than for my kids to see their Mama living brave... not so that I might gloat in my own pride, but quite the contrary... that I might bask in the wonder of what You can do in the heart and life of a quiet, scandalous, daughter of Yours, who gazes at the adventure but feels more comfortable hiding behind the daily grind of motherhood and wife-dom.
Draw me out LORD. Lead me.
'God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.' (Ephesians 3:20)
Work deeply, gently within...
