“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
I like to go through my old notebooks and read all my scribbles. Sometimes a sentence, paragraph or whole page will really touch my heart and I wonder if I wrote it, read it, or heard it. It would seem that one could not forget their own amazing words, but I have notebooks full of dreams and stories I know I wrote, but don't remember. My brain has so many parts, each doing it's own thing at the same time. I have to play a mindless game while I listen to a speaker or I can't focus on what he is saying. If I don't, that part of my brain will run off on rabbit trails and pretty soon I have heard nothing, so I keep it busy like a small child so the grown up in the other part of my brain can hear. Maybe God allowed the stroke to show me that it really wasn't bad having all those parts of my brain going at once. Now there are times it seems I can't get any of the parts moving forward. I found this in my notebook and I may have written about this already but I don't remember so it's new to me.
I don't know if this is only for writers or artists, or maybe musicians, but there are these moments where time pauses. This feeling comes over me that this moment, though it may seem insignificant to others, to me is a place to build an alter. Something changes and you know you will never be the same. I was sitting outside of Subway in Redding California with four friends who changed me in different ways.
One woman, whom I have been friends with the longest and trust more than I ever thought possible is in a place we can't and don't want to bring her back from, because we know she has to walk through it. There is a pendulum swinging in her heart, taking her from extreme sadness at the realization that only moments ago her grandma slipped from this world into the arms of Jesus and though she feels extreme sadness at losing her, at the other end of the pendulum is complete peace in knowing she is home. Sadness in knowing she was not there in that moment and peace knowing she has raised children who stepped in and stepped up to comfort others. Honor in realizing the call on her life to pull people back from the edge of hell, but fear because the first group to call to step away from that edge is her family members, the most difficult people to be "the new you" in Christ and not resort back to the "dead man" she was. Crying one moment and laughing the next as she sits across from me on Papa's lap, as He shows her how He has touched every corner of this place she is in.
To her right is another friend I have walked with the last few years. She is in a mother's nightmare of praying for an addicted son. Lord show him, Lord open his eyes, Lord please give him a vision of who he is, she begs her Papa and prays for faith. God showed up only hours earlier as we prayed for her, but it was not her son's spiritual eyes that were opened, but the corrected vision in her physical eyes. He restored her vision, she can throw her glasses away. Who is this God we love and how is it that this is the way He touches the eyes in her family. After she was healed, she sat crying, reading scripture on the sidewalk for all passers by to hear.
To her right sits another who I have known for some time. In the last few days my trust and love for her has grown. In our few days away from our lives, off chasing Jesus in Redding, she is the one I spent the most time with. She faced a moment that triggered old pain and in her transparency, I saw myself. There was a connection of spirit, that has only happened on a very rare occasion for me. I could see her heart like I rarely see another's heart and it was so beautiful as it struggled to beat even with the old wounds of childhood. The love that flowed from her heart appeared to be intensified by the wounds. I saw such a deep desire to set others free and suddenly understood that in releasing others, she was releasing herself. This friend is the one I would choose if the Lord offered to show one of my friends what He sees when He looks at her.
And last, but not at all least is my youngest and newest friend. She puts fire in those she meets. Her past seems to be the most like mine, but this woman chases Jesus 24/7 with outstretched arms and a hunger like I have never seen. She would walk through fire to get to Him and though she paused often to care for and comfort the rest of us over the past few days, her hunger and pursuit never waned.
There we sat, each of us dealing with our individual pain and challenges that God had exposed to us over the recent days, through ugly moments and beautiful moments. Each of us caring, concerned for each other as our mini vacation was coming to a close. I knew I wanted these women completely free. I also wanted to stay in that moment of laughter and tears, but I knew I couldn't. As we made our way to the car to head back to our lives, I realized we were leaving nothing behind but the old us. Instead of saying good-bye to Redding, we looked forward to saying "hello" to our home town with a united purpose of changing the atmosphere, with a decision to bring the anointing, to bring Jesus and to set the captives free in a way we had never done before.
It wasn't that our time was over. That car was full of laughter, worship, prayers, our hands reached out to each other as we processed on the way into battle against the enemy, with freshly sharpened weapons and an armor that was a little more banged up, but stronger and shining like it never had before. We were back to the fight, a little stronger, more focused, never to return to the warriors we had been, but sitting a little taller in the saddle knowing things would never be the same.
I believe that trip was about a year and a half ago. I look back like at the end of "The Sandlot" and see people fade into memories and out of the picture. Nothings the same, like eyes that were once healed wear glasses again. Were they really healed? Brokeness seems to have grown instead of being healed. Cancer, a stroke, pain, abuse, healings, ministry, friendships all those things still exist, they just change positions on the field. I have to laugh a little and wonder, why don't I write more? Ha. Cause I change when I write. I don't even use my own voice.
"You're killing me Smalls". - The Sandlot
