Tuesday, October 22, 2013

There's a hole in the bucket... dear Liza, dear Liza.

A few days ago, I overslept and got out of bed feeling irritated. Typically, if I get out of bed feeling agitated or stressed about my day, I'll quickly climb back into bed, spend a few sweet moments in prayer, reset my thoughts, and then get out of bed and try again. In high school, I used to be a little OCD about habits and routines, like unfolding my socks a certain way, getting dressed in a certain order, etc., but since those days I like to think I've loosened up a bit. Therefore, when I find myself doing things "just because my controlling nature says I should" I purposefully try to not do it. And, on this particular day I didn't climb back into bed.

But I think I should've. 

Running late, I quick brewed myself some coffee, knowing that the lack of a stimulant to jump start my brain would not help matters. As the coffee brewed, I finished getting ready. I went to pour myself coffee to go, but discovered all my travel mugs were at work. So I grabbed the tallest mug I could find. As I bustled out the door, I noticed a slight drip of hot coffee. I thought for sure it had to be because I was carrying it without a lid, with my hands full of other things, and at a pace slightly faster than a walk. However as the cup holder in my car filled with the hot coffee, I knew my driving was not causing that much of a spill. Come to discover that my coffee cup had a crack in it. 

It couldn't hold or retain what had been put in it.
(Taking this picture, I also noticed I forgot to put earrings in. One of my top 5 self pet peeves. Only snowballing my irritation.)

Thinking of how much I thought I needed the substance dripping through the cracks, I was reminded of a passage I'd read in a book earlier that week:

     "Someone would praise me for a performance, but the leaky bucket of my heart seemed unable to  hold onto the words. It couldn't. There seemed to be holes in my soul, spilling the one substance I desperately wanted to hold on to... But no matter how much praise I received, it was never enough to fill my deficient heart..." 

It made me think of a couple of things. 1. All of the things in life I try to hold on to that aren't mine to hold and 2. All of the things I want to hold on to that slip through the cracks of my heart. The author, Chhrista Black, goes on to say:

     "I was a walking bucket made for love, but there were massive holes torn in the bucket of my heart by the punches of the past, and the substance of love seemed to slip through me like an hour glass. The one thing I wanted I couldn't seem to hold onto." 

Lately I've been praying for deeper revelation of God's love. I finished a journal last week and decided to read through some old ones to see how God had been working in my life. And, what I learned in my time of reflection is that God loves me. It's written on almost every page of every journal I have. Different ways that He's revealing His love to me. Yet, instead of letting that truth settle in my heart bucket, it often seeps through, and I look instead to counterfeit affections to take its place or keep asking God for more revelation. I don't know why this happens or what it will take to change or absorb it. But because I worship a sovereign God who "works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28) I'm trusting His process.

And if it took my entire coffee cup leaking into the cup holders of my car to prompt me to realize that my heart is acting the same way, I'm okay without my morning fix in exchange for a fix of heart.

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