I am a mess today. No this is not a pity party. This is me on my sleeve. Out in the open. Vulnerable. Wide open.
The exact opposite of what I’ve been lately. The past few weeks I have been shut off, hiding, inside my own head, grazing through life. Barely getting through, it’s been kinda dark in some moments. Light in others. A mix of pain and fear and forgetfulness and coldness. Memories and laughter. Grief and loneliness. Good days and bad. Up, down. Up, down. The wavering roller coaster of life that sends me spiraling if I don’t wear my lap belt or fasten the safety latch or hold on tight or plant my feet firmly where they shoulda been all along.

Where’s that you ask?
Where’s that for me?
The foot of the cross.
Feet planted in the word.
Praying.
Listening.
I’ve been skimming through my devotionals, praying less than more, and here is where I find myself.
A mess.
On my knees, again.
At the foot of the cross, begging for forgiveness, mercy, and a fresh, new, wet, outpouring of grace to drench my spirit, soak my soul and quench my thirst.
Again.
Why can’t I just live in that? Why am I always up down, up down, up down?

This morning I was delivered an answer I had been waiting on.
I have attended a retreat called Hearts of Beauty. Twice. One is upcoming in October. Google it. If you’re interested in going, let me know, it is life-altering. There’s one in the spring. Come with me, I”m telling you, your heart will thank you. I hadn’t planned on attending for various reasons. But, about a week ago, I had this nudge to go. None of my friends were going. I would have to go alone. What??? Me??? Alone??? Whoa. No support, just going alone, me and God??? Whoa. Huge. While I know the time away is much needed, the time with God and nature is hard to resist, I hadn’t committed yet. Pondering again, this morning, my decision, because someone messaged me and asked if I was attending, I found myself questioning why I’m not going. What did I have to lose? At first the nudge was strong, like I gotta do this, I gotta go alone, I gotta try it all by myself. Honestly, I still feel that. But I now know it’s not my time.

I find out this morning that my 15 year old son’s homecoming is that weekend. His first homecoming.
Bam.
Answer given.
Heart broken.
One, my son is old enough to attend homecoming. Two, I know deep down I can’t miss that. Three, attending Hearts of Beauty started serious change in my life. It helped to spark change in my relationship with God, in my relationships with others, and also in myself. How can I not go????

My son says this morning, “Mom, you can still go”, but underneath those big, bright, brown eyes, I could see the disappointment. I could feel it. It was at that moment I knew I had to stay home.

Damn it. Just because we receive an answer, doesn’t mean we have to like it, right???
Thy will be done.
And it is.
Just like that.
I beg for answers then buck them when they’re given.
My will.
My pride.
On my knees.
For some reason, my son’s eyes just keep appearing in my mind.
They are the most beautiful brown. Big. Caring. Wide open. The light dances on the brown like the sun sparkles on the water. I can see his heart through them. I see his pain, although he is good at hiding it. Wonder where he got that from?

He is the typical teenager. Mouthy at times, likes mac n cheese one day and not the next, has his phone glued to his hand, loves sports, being active, basketball is his passion, his true love. We bump heads lately more than ever. We are both opinionated and stubborn. But with hearts of gold buried underneath…

So, back to the retreat I referred to earlier, the book that goes with it is titled is Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge. Read it. Even if you don’t attend the retreat. It is helpful. Be ready to look inside. So worth it. Anyway, there is a section about the heart of a man. It was brought up to me this morning, and totally has my head spinning. It is exactly where I left off in the book. The page was bookmarked with a dog-eared corner. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Like, lady, you need to read this part. Now. Talk about a God moment. I mean, I know I didn’t finish it, like most books I start, but what is this message being delivered to me? Scratching my head….
I start reading the chapter…
My son’s image just keeps flashing in my mind.
I can’t concentrate.
I just keep thinking about his heart. His heart. Buh boom, buh boom, buh boom. His beating, loving, caring, heart. His heart. The heart of a man. My son is becoming a man. A man. His heart.
Whoa….
Back to my knees.
Sobbing.
Thank you God for giving me the gift of this child.
Thank you for his heart.
His heart.
Let me tell you about his heart.
Always a sweet, shy child. In my eyes, a mama’s boy, because in essence, I was all he had. And my mom. We raised him. And an older sister. Their father passed away when he was 4. Never a big presence in their lives, none the less, a hole in his heart, that he knows is there but yet has no idea the vastness of that kind of wound or the hurt that it can bring. As I examine this today, even though my father is alive and was/is “around”, but yet was absent more than not, I think of what a void it has been in my heart for so long. All of a sudden I’m finding myself just longing to understand my son’s heart. My fathers’s heart, my brother’s heart, the heart of a man, my heart. Wow. What haven’t we been through? What is left to understand after being raked through the coals of alcoholism, a parents failed marriage, moving around, addiction, separation??? And now I’m face to face with my two older children not having their father around, regardless if they knew him well or not. He is gone. Days I ponder, would it have been easier or harder with him around? Would I have never found my husband now or had my other two beautiful children or would I still be searching for myself in a man that was never mine to begin with?

My knees again.
Thank you God for finding me.
For being my true, Good, Good Father.
For loving me when I couldn’t love myself enough to get out or start over or end it or move on. Thank you for searching for my restless, hardened heart to make it Your’s Again.

This brings me back to the heart of my son.
Back to those big, brown eyes.
The qualities of his heart reflected in the prisms of different shades of brown.
Darkness and light, softness and bold, forgiveness and pride, thankfulness and expectance.
I am praying for his heart. If I could just patch up his heart and fix all the broken, even the broken he doesn’t even know about yet. What mom wouldn’t, right??
The heart of a man. The heart of a man becoming. I adore his heart.
As he told me this morning, “You can go, mom, It’ll be fine.” I could go. He’s right. I could.
But, as I examine my own heart, I know I couldn’t miss this time with him for the world.

I just see those big, brown eyes looking at me, searching me, examining me.
I just see, for a brief second, his heart on his sleeve.
I see him quietly saying go, but only because that’s what he thinks I want to hear.
I think about his heart.
His heart that needs support and reassurance and love and acceptance and approval.
I can’t desert him like that.
I know he’d be fine.
But I’m not sure I would.
Funny how God works in this way. How messages and lessons are sent through others. How He stops us dead in our selfish, prideful tracks and delivers a picture of someone else’s heartbreak, so you can be humbled and gently reminded that His way, while not always in line with your own, is the way you should go. Through Him, you’ll find the grace needed to fill the hole in your heart as you miss that retreat, as you take the steps He has directed, as you fumble through accepting your way isn’t always the best way.
His heart.
God’s heart.
My heart.
I think about how I’ve searched for validation and acceptance in things that never mattered to begin with.
I think about how I’ve lost my own heart in the presence of others.
I think about how I’ve dressed my heart up with the lies I’ve been told, as if it looked good.
I think about how my heart has to be stripped down to sheer, absolute, bare nakedness to be able to rebuild again.
I think about all the times I searched for the love and approval of men in place of the attention that should have been given by my earthly father.
I think about how I’ve buried my heart with the things and the habits that provided the false protection and false acceptance I thought I had to have.
I think about how the answers I’ve received haven’t always been the answers I’ve wanted, but exactly the ones I needed.
I think about how I want my kids to be unselfish and full of forgiveness and thankfulness and grace and mercy and manners and wisdom and patience and self control, with others and with themselves.
I think about how being firmly rooted in the love of Christ will teach them to be secure and to be happy with who they are, in Him, and not conform to the who the world wants them to be, or for that matter, who I want them to be.
I think about the me time I’ll miss being away at the retreat, restoring my heart and mind and soul.

And then there are those big, brown eyes.
Staring at me lovingly.
In the moments of getting ready.
In picking out his outfit.
In his homecoming get up.
In the pictures I’ll be there to take.
In the quiet I love you’s and the be safes.
In the dozing off on the couch until his safe arrival home.
I’ll see those big, brown eyes, then I won’t only trust that God’s will in this situation was the best, I will know it was.

Beat still my heart.
His heart.
A heart I’m proud to know.
A heart I get to love.
A heart growing into the man God has planned Him to be.

I just now got to read my devotionals. It is 2:15 pm.

I tried to tell you in the beginning it was that kind of day.

Hebrews 4:16. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

This spoke loudly to me today for whatever reason. He died for our sin, although He was sinless. I should have confidence in that as I approach the throne of grace, that there is enough power in His blood to provide for my weakness as I walk in the steps He is directing. It may not be my will or my way, but there is comfort in knowing I can trust Him with whatever it may be, and that it will work out for my good. Let me walk boldly in that. Praying confidently. To be daring enough to walk in faith, believing in His grace and goodness. Thy will be done as I face this situation and more to come. As I learn more every day how to accept His grace, live in His grace, give His grace, and allow His grace to work in my own life.

You’re right. I might be a little sad I don’t get to enjoy the retreat this time around. I’m pretty sure I’ll miss the alone time and the time with God and the fellowship with other ladies like myself. But something tells me I’m going to have to find that restoration and peace and serenity right here and now as I sit this one out. Something tells me I will. Something tells me He will lead me right where I need to be. Something tells me as I bend more towards the direction He is guiding me, I’ll find even more than what I thought I was looking for.

I have to rest in that. His promise.

Grace. It is plentiful. It is sustaining. It is my hug from God.

Give grace.

Give grace a hug❤️

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