Forty.of40.number39.

Deviantart.com

God has crowned me with glory and honor and ashes. That is how it feels, as I approach my birthday this year. I see God's work. I see in part God's holiness. I am aware of my sin. Juxtaposed, the ashes and the clarity- the black, grey, and white, scattered about, and light to illumine the way.

Glorious- God's miraculous provisions.

Honorable- Who God's helped me to be.

Ashes- The substance from which God has built.

I had a conversation today. I tolerated a person much like a girl I once was. This person tolerated others, so she told me. Particular kinds of people were more tolerable than all, but as a Christian, she can tolerate, to a certain degree; therefore, she does. She told me these things quite proudly. She was obedient, but it did give her pause. She shuddered. She made things clear. I heard of her god and the legalities needing to be met to obtain his absolution.

I remember the days that right and wrong were black and white, before I knew that answers aren't easy, and that easy answers rarely intersect with the complexities of life. I used to be that girl, but God wasn't finished with me. This girl desired to shine the light, but she couldn't step out of her shadow.

Last week, I observed another woman I could easily have become, but for the grace of God, another woman wanting to put the energy of her passion wrought through the fires of pain to good use. I don't mean to cast judgment on her. She does not even know me. I just see her anger, her bitterness and how that leads to unstable boundaries. I see it because it's a familiar space for me. 

Even after being broken, this child fights, belligerently. But she's a daughter of God. How can I judge her? I could easily be her, assured I'm so right, without regard for another, unable to hear, barely able to see. I have been so near, so close to going back to worshipping myself. There were many times; I could have become her. I could become her still.

Approaching 40, I'm glad I didn't end up in either of those spaces. I have passed through, but God did not let me remain. Those women walk straight up to the temple, to say their prayers, to demonstrate their piety, their tolerance, or lack thereof.  They need god to be god the way they choose him to be so that they can be seen as the most fitting of worshipper, the most sacred of saints. 

They are seen, and they are praised- so lovely- admired at times, by some, but mostly feared by those who are vulnerable and need the help, need the acceptance, or the chance to be heard, the chance for peace. I don't know why God has chosen not to leave me in my filth. I've certainly attempted to leave God for filth plenty of times. Apparently filth is a popular look for women these days. 

Lord God, if there is anything in me to root out, search my heart and root it out. You bestow Honor, in Your time. I look to You. Thank You for helping me confess who I am and who I am not.

I stand far off from the steps, at 39 years old, back behind the barnyards even, no better than another. I stand back where I made the promises that apparently I wouldn't keep, at least not in the way I imagined to keep them or with the person I'd imagined I was promising. So I imagine Christ in the stable, born of a teenage pregnancy. I remember there is no shame. I imagine Mary warm with her baby by God's provision. I remember I don't have to know the hows, or the house, or even the whys. All I must know is that the Third Strand we spoke of that day by the barn, the Third Color Sand we poured our pink and grey upon, has never left me, and apparently has not let me leave Him. Praise the Lord. 

I thank God I have had places to live this entire 39th year of my life. I started it in my father's house, returned for 3 short weeks to the place I'd called home last November, and then, without even knowing it, said goodbye to it, not knowing I would not be allowed to return. 

I had no idea where I'd lay my head many times this year, or why God was so choosing to force me to sleep in the spaces He led me. I thank God for the reminder that we follow by faith. I thank God for the opportunity to see multiple miracles come to fruition, even if they require me tolerating those so proud of their tolerance. We are enabled to see what God works out as He works it out, not before. I look to God, alone.

I thank God that I had the opportunity to love my children in the homes of multiple friends the past few months. I look forward to more of those opportunities. This 39th year, I lost my physical home, but I gained home that is with me constantly through the relationships God has grown and the congruency God has brought to my life If ever I felt I lost who I was, I have found her again. I have returned. God has brought me back to myself and to Him. 

There are a lot of people I could have been, that God could have made me, many more grand than who I am. I am satisfied, however, and I'm at peace. I'll take this slice of unique. I'll stretch out my arms in it, embrace the discomfort, wait for the security to check my bags when needed, handle the unconventional roommate, live where I can, and love everywhere God takes me,  with the ones God gives me to love. 

#39 of 40 is a thanks to God for bringing upon me the peace and acceptance of my lot, even if there is no play to lay one's head, or if we must find our rest in our neighbor's bed. Glory. Honor, and Ashes. Amen.